


Songs For A Winters Night

by ilovejared



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, More angst, Past Rape/Non-con(not between the brothers, Past Torture, Protective Dean Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Dean, Top Sam, Wincest Big Bang 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovejared/pseuds/ilovejared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly after Captives(9.14). 4) Sam isn’t ready to forgive Dean for allowing an angel, a psycho angel, to possess him even if it was to save his life. Being at odds with Dean on top of everything else that’s happened is just too much, so Sam makes a wish never thinking it will be granted. The results could give the Winchesters what they’ve always wanted: a happy, loving relationship with one another. Will the Winchesters get their happy ending or will the past come back to haunt them and take from Dean the one thing he can’t bear to lose? His brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Song

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Big Bang and it's been fun! I've also pulled my hair out several times and learned things that next time will make the whole experience much easier.
> 
> Thank you to my beta and cheerleader brothersloverssoulmates. I love you!!
> 
> Lovely artwork by bluefire986. You're awesome!!!!

  


 

 

 

 

 

 

_And I find it kinda funny_

_I find it kinda sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying_

_Are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you_

_I find it hard to take_

_When people run in circles_

_It's a very, very mad world, mad world_

 

                                                           “Mad World” by Gary Jules

     He stumbled through the forest, branches and moss catching at his hair, his face. He was cold. So cold. He shivered and pulled his jacket closer around his shoulders. It did nothing to dispel the chill that permeated his body all the way to his very soul. He was lost and searching. Searching for a guide and light back to where he should be. But where was that?

    He needed…something, no, _someone_.

     The trees were becoming more dense and their long arms were impeding his movement forward so he turned to go back the way he had come. The path was gone. He couldn’t go forward, he couldn’t go back.

     Sinking to his knees, he felt the cold seeping through the earth into his body, the fetid smell of death and decay all around him. He was so tired and really, what was the point of looking for someone who didn’t want to be found?

     A voice whispered, _Just lay down, Sam. Why go on? What is the upside of you being alive? He doesn’t want you. Not anymore. You ruined it, Sam, just like you ruin_ _everything_.

     Sam startled awake, a cold sweat running down his neck and an ache in his chest that made him sit up, gasping.

     He rocked back and forth, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt where it lay over his heart.

     Sam could hear Kevin’s words before he disappeared, “The drama, the fighting... It's stupid. My mom's taking home a ghost. You two... You're both still here.”

    He had promised Kevin that he would try but, instead he had walked away. Away from Dean. Away from everything in his life that had meant something.

      _What is the upside of me being alive?_

    He had to get out of here. This room, the bunker, they felt like the forest in his dream, Closing in on him, strangling him. He had to get away from that look of hurt and shock in Dean’s eyes.

    _All right, you want to be honest? If the situation was reversed and I was dying, you’d do the same thing_.

    _No, Dean. I wouldn’t. Same circumstances, I wouldn’t._

     He didn’t want to think anymore. Didn‘t want to remember his hands burning Kevin’s eyes out as he screamed or the harsh words he had exchanged with his brother. Didn’t want to remember the silence between them which had somehow cut deeper than any words ever could.

    Pulling on his jacket over the t-shirt and sweats he had laid down in, he shoved his feet in his boots and opened the door of his room, peering cautiously down the hallway. He moved swiftly passed Dean’s room not hearing any noise and not wanting to alert his brother that he was up and around.

        When he finally stepped outside, he took a deep breath. The air was crisp and cold and he could smell the pines that spread out behind the bunker. The promise of snow lay heavy in the stillness and Sam could tell that morning would bring a fresh blanket of white to obscure the bleakness of the winter landscape.

     Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped into the gloom of the trees. It felt eerily like the dream he had woke from earlier except he wasn’t searching for anything. He was trying to escape everything.

     He was running and this time he didn’t care. Didn’t care because how could he live with this crushing weight? The knowledge that his brother, the person he trusted his life( _his heart and soul_ ) with would betray that trust in the worst way possible.

      _You know, Sam, I saved your hide back there. And I saved your hide at that church…and the hospital. I may not think things all the way through, okay? But what I_ _do, I do because it’s the right thing. I’d do it again._

    _And that’s the problem, you think you’re my savior, my brother, the hero. You didn’t do it for me, you did it for you. You just didn’t want to be alone._

     Alone. That’s exactly what he was now. Alone and it hurt so bad he had to lean against the prickly bark of a pine tree to catch his breath. It was his fault, not Dean’s. He understood why Dean had done it, even though it had been wrong. Wrong because the universe would be better off if Sam Winchester would just go ahead and die already.

    Dean had once catalogued the highlights of Sam’s long string of spectacularly grand fuck-ups. Ruby, setting Lucifer free, not looking for Dean in Purgatory. Let’s just add Jess to the list while we were at it. And Dean going to hell. Dean being tortured for forty years so Sam could live. Even though Sam had been topside, it had seemed like four hundred years had passed. And Sam had imagined the horrors that his brother had been enduring in the pit for him. Because of _him_.

     Walking faster, Sam went deeper into the forest not caring where his footsteps led. As long as it was away from all of the failures and all of the hurt he had caused to those who had meant the most to him.

    He had knelt in that church and asked forgiveness for all the times he had failed his brother because in the long and detailed history of epic failures, these were the things that caused him the most pain. Because he had let down his big brother who had always done his best by him, had saved him over and over again.

    Sam knew that Dean did everything out of love even though he’d never admit it. No chick flick moments. Of course, Dean didn’t want to be alone. Neither of them was good without the other. Never had been. Never would be.

     The memories were rolling through Sam’s mind like a tidal wave of pain and loss. All of the hurtful words, the lies, the betrayals. The things done and undone that made the difference between some happiness and the agonizing despair he was feeling right now.

     Sam didn’t realize he was running until he tripped over a fallen branch and went down hard on one knee. He was up again and now it was exactly like the dream. The cold, the aching weariness and the heaviness in his heart that was the hardest to bear. He’d fucked everything up. Things would never be the same between him and Dean ever again.

     Oh, god, if he could just forget. He would pray for death but he didn’t want to do that to his brother. Not after everything Dean had sacrificed for him. He had been ready to die, yes, but Dean needed him. Dean needed Sam to take care of him as sure as he needed Dean.

    But to forget, to not remember Jess, and fire, Dean’s hell, and the hell that was months without his brother. To not remember what it felt like to have your world torn apart and to watch the only person that made your life, your existence, worth anything disappear into nothingness.

     Sam broke into a clearing and fell to his knees, gasping. He expected the grass to be brittle and dying but it was lush and green under his fingertips. Snowflakes began to fall lightly and Sam didn’t register the anomaly surrounding him.

     Lifting his face to the heavens, the snowflakes mingled with the tears that fell in slow and steady procession.

    “Please”, he whispered brokenly, “please. I just want to forget. I just want to forget.”

     He curled on his side and wrapped his arms around his body. He could just stay here and sleep. Sleep had eluded him as of late and he felt warm and comfortable. It was too much effort to walk all of the way back to the bunker. He would just rest a bit. Just a little while.

    Closing his eyes, Sam continued to murmur, "Forget. Just for a little while. Just want to forget."

    Sam knew he should really get up and get moving. He was vaguely aware that light was flooding the clearing around him but he was just too tired to care. Maybe it was morning already. What did it matter?

      The last thing Sam knew before he slipped all of the way under was a hand, soft and warm, touching his brow, soothing him. “I have heard your pleas. Forget, Sam Winchester. Forget.”

 

    _Sam. Sam…_ …..

     He woke to the sound of his name whispering through the trees. Their branches were telling secrets and he strained to hear their hushed tidings.

    _It’s time, Sam Winchester. He is waiting for you._

_Dean._

    His eyes flew open at the name. Dean. It meant something. The name stirred him to move his limbs and he realized he was covered with a dusting of white though the lush green around him showed no sign it had been touched by winter’s hand.

     Looking around, Sam realized he didn’t know where he was or how he had come to be in this grassy enclave in the middle of a silent wood.

     In fact, he didn’t remember anything.

     He knew he was Sam Winchester. He had a brother Dean.

     Instinctively, he knew that if he could find Dean, everything would be okay. Dean would know what to do.

     He stumbled to his feet and out of the circle of warmth. It was then he felt the bitter cold and realized he must have been out here longer than he had thought. Not knowing which direction to turn, he took a deep breath and started walking.

    Toward warmth. Toward safety. Toward home.

     "Dean!!"

 

 


	2. Second Song

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Practiced all my sins, never gonna let me win, uh-huh_

_Under everything, just another human being, uh-huh_

_I don't wanna hurt, there's so much in this world to make me bleed_

_Did I say that I need you?_

_Oh, did I say that I want you?_

_Oh, if I didn't I'm a fool you see_

_No one knows this more than me_

_And I come clean, ah..._

_Nothing you would take_

_Everything you gave_

_Hold me til I die_

_Meet you on the other side.._.

 

                                                   "Just Breathe" by Pearl Jam

 

     Goddamnsonofabitch.

     Dean ripped the earbuds out of his ears and threw them and, consequently his MP3 player, across the room where it hit the wall with a satisfying crunch.

     So, Sam thought he wouldn’t do the same for Dean. His little brother would just let him die. Not give him another thought. Just like he did when Dean went to purgatory.

    _It’s not the same and you know it. He’s pissed and he has a right to be_.

     Yeah, okay. Dean could understand why Sam was so angry. It was the same reason he had hesitated to allow Gadreel to possess Sam in the first place. He knew it wouldn’t be what Sam would want. Another entity possessing him, controlling him even if it was to save his life.

     Sam had been ready to die. Again. But Dean still wasn’t ready to let him go. What he had told Sam standing under that street lamp had been the truth. He didn’t think he had it in him to let Sam die. It went against everything he was.

    And, Sam was right. Dean didn’t want to be alone but it was more than that. Truth was life without Sam was like living in a world where the color had been bleached away, where everything was off-kilter. Nothing made sense in a world without Sam. Nothing mattered.

     So much for no chick-flick moments.

     It had hurt Dean when Sam had told him in the church that his greatest sin was all the times he had thought he had let Dean down. And to see the pain that Sam lived with every hour of every day because of things Dean had said or done. To see exactly how broken his little brother was had shaken Dean to his core.

    _If you finish the trials, you’ll die._

    _So_?

     One little word that summed up a life that meant so much to everyone on this godforsaken planet. No one would ever know what his brother had done. What he had sacrificed.

   Dean knew and didn’t Sammy deserve more than a life full of pain and suffering?

    He had used deception to save his brother but he’d been honest with Sam when he had said that he would do it again.

    He would in a heartbeat. Because he wanted to make up for all of the harsh words he had thrown at Sam over the last year. Hell, the last decade.

    And he wanted to make sure that his little brother knew just how much he meant to him. That no one would ever take his place. Not Lisa or Cas or Benny.

     So he had let Gadreel possess Sam and the fallout had been stupendously horrific. Kevin dead by Sam’s hand but not his intent. Sam’s body tortured by Crowley and then possessed simultaneously by Gadreel and the king of Hell.

     Then, to top it all, he’d left Sam. Cas had called him and, in a voice more devoid of emotion than normal, had said that he was worried about Sam. Told him about the painful extraction of Gadreel’s remaining grace and, if it had been up to Sam, they would have continued until Sam was comatose. Or worse.

     “He needs his brother, Dean. No matter his words, you are what he needs to heal.”Then, in typical Cas fashion, he had hung up before Dean was able to respond.

     What a totally fucktastic situation.

     He needed to talk to Sam right now.

     Dean glanced at his bedside clock and saw that it was a little past two in the morning. Too bad they didn’t make a “Sorry I went against your wishes and didn’t let you die and let a psycho angel possess you because I couldn’t live without you” card.

     Sighing, Dean picked up his mangled MP3 and laid it on his dresser. Suck it up, Winchester, and just go tell him you’re sorry.

     Dean liked having is own room, his own space. He liked being able to display his meager collection of possessions. The one thing he missed, sometimes unbearably, was having Sam with him at night. He had never realized how lonely the hours between midnight and dawn could be without the sounds of his brother sleeping, the feel of Sam next to him.

     He made his way down the corridor and stopped in confusion at the open door of Sam’s room.

     It looked like his bed hadn’t been slept in at all. Dean could see the indentation of Sam’s body on the bedspread but it was still neatly tucked in where Sam had made it that morning.

     He was probably in the library doing research or reading poetry or whatever. On further inspection, Dean couldn’t find Sam anywhere. Not the library or the kitchen. He checked the gym and, the showers and the dungeon. He even checked the fleet of vehicles in the bunker’s garage.

     He called Sam’s phone. No answer. Back in Sam’s room, he found it lying on his desk amidst various books of lore.

     “Come on, Sammy, where are you?” The first tendrils of panic began to worm their way from the pit of his stomach making Dean’s heart beat just a little faster.

     The bunker was a pretty big place but it wasn’t so big that he shouldn’t be able to find his gigantor brother.

     After his second pass through all of the areas Sam usually went when he wanted some alone time(did Sam really think Dean didn’t know all of his hiding places?), Dean came to the only conclusion he could. Sam wasn’t in the bunker.

     He raced up the stairs and out into dark where the cold took his breath away in an instant. The impala sat where he had parked her earlier, covered with a fresh blanket of white, while more flakes drifted lazily through the night air. So he hadn’t taken the car. Unless Sam had found a secret room, that meant he had left the bunker on foot. At night. In a snowstorm.

      Fucking hell.

     The panic swelled until Dean thought his heart would explode from the sheer enormity of it.

     Dean cupped his hand to his mouth and yelled as loudly as he could, “ Sam!!”

     Which way could he have gone? Was he walking down the road or had he gone into the woods and if he had, which way had he taken?

     Unsure of how to proceed, Dean stood rooted to the spot. His indecision actually lasted only a few seconds. He would get in the impala and drive. If Sam had decided to leave he was probably headed to town.

     Only his little brother was stubborn enough to bail in the middle of a snowstorm.

     As Dean turned to head back inside, he heard a sound carried by the rising wind. It was faint but it was familiar.

 

     He cocked his head to one side, standing perfectly still, to see if he heard it again.

     In the distance, one syllable, carried on the storm’s breath.

    _“Dean!”_

_“Sammy!!”_ Dean raced toward the trees and saw Sam stumble to his knees as he breached the front line of trees.

     Dean skidded to his knees and took the shivering form of his brother in his arms. Sam’s hair was white and his lips were blue but they still tilted upwards into a smile. His hand came up to touch Dean’s cheek.

     “Dean,” he whispered softly.

 

      “Come on, Sammy, let’s get you inside and get you warm.” Dean helped Sam to his feet and Sam leaned against him as they shuffled toward the bunker.

     “What the hell were you thinking, Sam?” Sam’s answer was lost in the chattering of his teeth.

     “Never mind. You can enlighten me later. I mean it’s a little chilly for a stroll in the woods, don‘t ya think?”  

     The wind began to pick up and they bent their heads against it’s force. Finally, they made it inside and the warmth of home.

     “We’re going straight to the shower, Sammy, and then some hot coffee. Or how about hot chocolate? With marshmallows, just like I made when you were little.”

     Sam didn’t respond except to grab Dean’s hand and squeeze. Dean guided Sam to the bathroom closest to his own bedroom. He stripped Sam’s sodden jacket off and brushed Sam’s fingers away when he tried to unbutton his own shirt. Sam was shaking so violently that his fingers refused to work properly.

     Dean turned away to start the shower, leaving Sam standing in his jeans and t-shirt. He fiddled with the settings getting the water temperature just right.

     Sam had managed to get his t-shirt over his head and was attempting to unbutton his jeans. His brow was furrowed in concentration and his hair hung in damp strands around his face as the snowflakes clinging to him began to melt.

     Sam’s fingers were numb so he was still having no luck grasping buttons or zippers. Dean stepped forward and, once again, brushed the long fingers aside with a tired sigh.

     “Let me, Sammy.” It was like Sam was six again and Dean was helping him get ready for his nightly bath. He knelt and helped Sam get his boots and socks off then pulled his jeans and boxers down and off. They got tangled around his feet and he almost fell over but Dean caught him and steadied him at the last minute.

     Sam was naked and Dean was on his knees trying not to look at anything too closely. It had been almost a year since he had seen his brother without clothes and this was so not the time for his brain to ponder the situation.

     The last time Dean had seen Sam sans clothes had been during the trials. It had been after the second trial and Sam had been sick. So sick that most of the time sex was not even an option but Sam craved physical contact and Dean did all he could to comfort his little brother.

      Sam hadn’t wanted Dean to see just how thin he had become, afraid that Dean would think him ugly. But Dean had thought just the opposite.

     Dean had laid Sam down on his bed and massaged his aching muscles until Sam was relaxed, pliant. Then he had shown Sam, with his lips and hands, just how beautiful he thought him to be.

      _You’ll always be beautiful to me, Sammy. Always._

     Getting to his feet, Dean wrapped Sam’s trembling form in his arms, rubbing his hands briskly over his back and arms.

“Come on, Sammy. The water will warm you right up.” He helped Sam into the stall and then pulled the door shut.

     “I’ll be right here, okay? Let me know if you need anything.”

     Sam‘s response was low and muffled. “ ’Kay.”

     The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of the streaming water. Dean could see the outline of his brother standing under the spray, letting the warmth flow over him. He had a million questions he wanted to ask. He wanted to know what was going through Sam’s head. Why had he left in the middle of the night? What had he been doing in the woods?

     What was it going to take for them to be brothers again? Dean’s reverie was interrupted by the cessation of the water. As Sam opened the shower door, Dean extended a towel which Sam accepted with a grateful look.

     Dean turned his back while Sam toweled off and when he turned back, Sam had put on the soft white robe Dean had laid out for him.

     “Feeling better?”

     Shrugging his shoulders, Sam replied, “I feel like I have ice in my bones, in my veins.” He paused, looking down at the floor. When he looked up at Dean again, there was fear in his eyes.

     Dean stepped closer. He wanted to pull Sam close, soothe away the hurt, the sadness, but refrained for the moment.

    “What is it, Sam?”

     “Dean…I can’t remember anything.”

 

     They were sitting on Dean’s bed, Sam under the covers still wrapped in the robe and Dean facing him. Both of them were holding mugs of hot coffee liberally dosed with whiskey. Sam’s shivering had lessened but he still felt the effects of his time with the storm.

     Sam had no recollection of what had sent him into the night. He had no memory of anything that had transpired before he woke up in the forest.

     Well, that wasn’t exactly true.

     He knew he was Sam Winchester. He knew he had a brother, Dean. And he knew he loved his brother with every fiber of his being.

     Sam kept that little bit of information to himself.

     “I’m sure it’s temporary, Sam. You just need a good night’s sleep.”

     Sam didn‘t look convinced. “I’m hope you’re right, Dean.” He drained the rest of his cup and then set it on the nightstand. “I’ll head to my room so we can both get some sleep.”

     Clearing his throat, Dean said quietly, “Stay here, Sammy.”

     No time like the present to start setting things right, Dean thought wryly.

     “Okay.” He looked down at the robe and lifted one eyebrow. “ I should probably go grab some sweats.”

     Dean opened up a drawer, bringing out a pair of navy blue sweatpants with a grin“Here you go. Always be prepared, Sammy.”

    Sam chuckled. “I have the feeling you always are.”

Dean hid himself in the bathroom while Sam got settled. He emerged a few minutes later, teeth brushed and clad in an old pair of soft pajama pants. He closed the door to his room quietly and left one small lamp on to illuminate the room in soft light.

    Sam was buried under the covers but when he heard Dean he turned to look at his brother. His eyes were shining and he flipped back the covers gesturing shyly. “You going to come keep me warm?”

    Dean let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Sam was obviously exhausted and he had to be a little worried about his memory loss. But he looked younger, somehow, content.

     Climbing in the bed, Dean pulled the blanket up over them both and pulled Sam against him. The feel of Sam’s skin against his was something he thought he might never feel again. Sam sighed and pulled Dean closer, breathing already evening out into the rhythm of sleep.

    Dean buried his nose in Sam’s hair, breathing in the scent, feeling the softness against his lips. He kissed the top of Sam’s head and whispered, “Good night, Sammy.”

     Sam made a soft noise and Dean lay there listening to the soothing sounds of his little brother sleeping.

     It was the lullaby Dean had grown up listening to and he soon followed, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

 

     Dean woke slowly for once. There was no startled awakening because of a nightmare, his own or Sam’s. He stretched, feeling the sensation all the way down to his toes. He lay with eyes closed for a few seconds, so comfortable he didn’t want to move. Then, his eyes flew open.

     The memory of last night flooded back and he sat up. He was alone.

     "Sammy!?!”

    He stumbled from the bed, almost tripping in his haste and tore open the door.

    The enticing smells of coffee and bacon hit him as soon as he was in the hallway. Evidently, Sam was in the kitchen and that was where Dean found him, sliding a huge, fluffy omelet onto a plate.

     Sam smiled when he saw Dean and it wasn’t a half smile or a tired smile. It was an open, cheerful smile. A smile that he hadn’t seen on his little brother’s lips in years.

     “Hey, Dean. Grab a seat.” Sam had split the omelet into two halves, added bacon to one plate and he set it in front of Dean with a flourish. He followed with a mug of hot coffee and grabbing his own plate sat across the table from Dean.

     “How long have you been up, Sam?” Dean took a sip of his coffee and watched his brother closely for any lingering effects from his sojourn in the woods.

    “Oh, not too long. I just woke up feeling really good and I wanted to make you breakfast.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “I expected to feel like crap this morning but I don’t so…” Taking another bite of his omelet, Sam waved his fork in Dean’s general direction. “You’re not eating.”

     Dean forked a huge bite of eggs and bacon into his mouth and chewed appreciatively. “It’s good, Sammy.” He took another bite. “Really good.” He looked at Sam closely. “So you’re really feeling okay?”

    “Yeah, I really am. I mean, I want to get my memories back, of course.” He combed his fingers through his hair and shrugged again. “Speaking of, I need to ask you a couple of things.”

    “Okay, shoot.” Dean hoped he wasn’t going to ask him to recount his life story because he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the loss of Sam’s memories could be a good thing. A _really_ good thing.

    Maybe one of the reasons Sam felt so great was that he wasn’t carrying the weight of all the horrors he had lived through. No memories, no guilt. A clean slate.

     “When I woke up I knew who I was. The only other thing I knew was that I had a big brother named Dean and I had to find you.” Sam cleared his throat and looked a little nervous. “I mean, I knew you were my brother and if I could find you I would be okay. And I also know that you are more than a brother to me.”

     Dean took a deep breath. “Sam…”

     “It’s okay”, Sam interrupted, “I just know it feels right. Just like I know that you’re not particularly keen on talking about it and we don‘t have to right now.” He paused, looking down at his hands, before looking back at Dean. “But I’ve got to ask. What have our lives been like? I mean, we live underground and I’m in love with my brother.”

     He looked expectantly at Dean, waiting for his big brother to fill in the blanks. How much should Dean tell him? How much did Sam really need to know? By some merciful stroke of luck, all the god-awful crap Sam had endured had been wiped from his mind.

     And the fact that he had forgotten all of the recent issues between them wasn’t motivation at all to keep Sam in the dark. Maybe this was the way Sam could finally step out of the shadow that hung over him since he was six months old.

      Sam was happy, dammit. Why should he ruin it? Dean stood up and began to clear the table. “I tell you what, Sammy. Let’s clean up breakfast and then I’ll fill you in.”

     Twenty minutes later they sat down in the library and Dean told Sam a very abbreviated version of the Winchester family saga. How their mother, Mary, had been murdered by a demon when Sam was six months old. This one event changed their lives forever. It set their father on his quest for revenge and led to their childhood being one of shabby motel rooms decorated with the tools of the hunter. Endless highways that were eaten up by the impala’s wheels while two boys were lulled to sleep in her back seat, safe for the moment in the only place they could call home. Late nights huddled together under threadbare quilts wondering if their father was going to come back this time.

      And the forging of a bond between the brothers that would always tether them to one another, no matter how many times the universe sought to tear them apart.

     Sam asked questions, especially about the supernatural aspect of their lives but he seemed to accept it as the norm. Maybe because it factored into everything they had ever done. Even now his mind couldn’t totally forget.

     Dean explained hunting and the Men of Letters. Skimmed over all of the details that might cause Sam to remember the pain of the past. Hours passed and Dean grabbed them cold beers while Sam pored over old texts and books of lore, familiarizing himself once again with the world in which the Winchesters lived and fought and died.

     Finally, Sam closed the book in front of him and pushed his chair back from the table. “I don’t think my brain can absorb any more of this. It’s like I can almost remember but not quite.”

     “Well, don’t try so hard, Sammy. I’m sure it will all come back.” Of course, Dean was praying that it wouldn’t. Not all of it, at least.

     “So”, Sam settled back in the chair, crossing his long legs. “Tell me about us.”

     Dean laughed. “You’ve never been one to beat around the bush, Sammy.”

     “Tell me how this”, Sam gestured vaguely from himself to Dean, “started. I mean how did we go from brothers one day to something else the next.”

         Well, it didn’t.” At Sam’s questioning look, he went on. “I mean, it took years for us to act on it. At least, for me it did.”

     Leaning forward, Sam touched Dean’s hand lightly with his fingers. A soft caress from Dean’s wrist to his fingers which Sam squeezed gently before letting go and sitting back once more. “Just tell me whatever you’re comfortable with Dean.”

     Dean thought a moment. How did you describe something that had been a part of you for so long that the loss of it was incomprehensible? He had always been Sam’s brother, but he had been his caretaker, his playmate, his teacher, his protector, his friend. What he felt for Sam had been growing inside of him since the first moment his mother had placed his little brother in his arms.

     How could a four-letter word describe what he felt for his brother? He might as well describe the inner working of the universe. It was indefinable. It had no boundaries. Nothing could contain it. It just was.

     He began slowly. “You have to understand, Sam, I’ve been taking care of you, protecting you, since you were a baby. You’re my little brother. It was hard for me to admit that I felt more for you. For a long time, I didn’t want to. Or I just couldn’t. I didn’t let myself, I guess.”

     Sam didn’t say a word, just waited for Dean to continue. “I watched you grow up and one day, the summer after your fifteenth birthday, I just looked at you and I saw you. You were as tall as me already and you were beginning to fill out. We were sitting on the impala, just talking about nothing, looking at the stars.” Dean paused, remembering the moment like it was yesterday. How do you forget the moment you realize that you’re in love with your little brother?

     “I was gone. Right then. I tried to ignore it. I dated a whole lot of girls in the next year. Well, not really  _dated_ , but you know.” He glanced at Sam who was just watching him quietly, waiting to hear about the times he couldn’t remember and Dean couldn’t forget.

     “Then one day, I guess you had had enough of waiting. At least, that’s what you told me after. It was October. I remember because we were in Michigan and the leaves were turning. Dad was on a hunt and I had gone to get us some dinner. I’d left you doing homework and when I walked in, you took the bag of food, slammed it on the table and then slammed me against the wall.” Dean smiled at the memory. “You kissed me and said I was stupid for making you wait.”

     “I wish I could remember,” Sam sighed sadly. “So, we’ve been together ever since?”

     Dean stood and paced nervously. “We’ve had our moments but, for the most part, yeah.” It wasn’t really a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

     “What about lately? I’ve just got this weird feeling, like we haven’t really connected in a while.”

     Sam had always been intuitive, especially where Dean was concerned. “You’ve been sick for the past year and then you were, you know, getting better. So, I guess we haven’t been as close lately.”

     Please don’t ask me anymore, Sammy. Please.

     He heard the chair creak as Sam stood up, then Sam was behind him. The briefest of moments passed, then Sam’s arms came around him.

     Closing his eyes, Dean savored the feel of Sam against him. It had been long, too long, since they had touched each other out of more than necessity. It only took one touch of Sam’s body against his, one brush of Sam’s lips against his ear. One hushed word, “Dean”, to remind him that his little brother held his whole world, his happiness in his hands.

     For Sam, it was like a first time. He knew it wasn’t, but he had no recollection of everything that had passed between the two of them. He just knew as he touched Dean, that this was what had made the messed-up life Dean had described worth living. It was overwhelming in it’s intensity and he had to take a deep breath and step back.

    Dean turned and Sam could see the fear in his eyes. It had almost always been like this hadn’t it? They would part and come back together but it would be Sam who decided.

     Because Dean was his big brother and he didn’t want to hurt Sam. He would give up what they had if that was what Sam wanted. Even if it tore his heart in two.

     Pulling Dean close, Sam touched his forehead to Dean’s. They stood there for a moment, arms wrapped around one another, savoring the closeness.

    Sighing, Sam moved away, reluctantly letting go of his brother. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to cherish every minute, every gaze, every touch. How often did you get a chance to relive one of the most important moments of your life?

     “I want to do something special tonight. Have we ever been on a date?”

     Dean snorted. ‘A date? Umm, no.” He looked at Sam warily. “You want to go on a date? Last time I looked, there was a blizzard outside.

     ”Laughing, Sam replied. “No, I don’t want to go anywhere. We’ll stay right here. I’m going to go shower and then I want you to stay out of here and the kitchen until…”, he glanced at his watch, “until seven. That okay with you?”

     “What am I suppose to do for the next three hours?” Dean whined. He didn’t really mind but giving his little brother a hard time was part of his job.

    “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He leaned down and pecked Dean’s cheek. “See you later.”

     Dean watched Sam’s retreating back and for the first time, in as long as he could remember, allowed himself to hope.

 

     Promptly, at seven, Dean headed to the library.He had spent the last couple of hours showering and trying on one shirt after another. He generally didn’t worry about what he put on because he felt like he looked pretty hot in whatever he wore. But tonight was different.

    _Special._

     So he had taken extra care with what he wore, finally deciding on his best pair of jeans and a soft suede shirt in forest green.

     He gave himself one more critical look in the mirror and realizing what he was doing, made an exasperated sound. “For god’s sake, stop being such a girl.”

     The library was empty but Sam had been busy. Two low lamps were on and there were two places set at the table, both with white china, silverware and wine glasses. Two tall white candles were burning, casting a soft glow over the entire scene.

     He had heard people talk about having butterflies in their stomach and he had never knew what that felt like until now. It was just his brother.

     Yeah, exactly.

     A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “You’re right on time. For once.”

     Dean turned and the butterflies morphed into a whole freaking flock of birds.

     Looking at his brother, Dean’s hello came out in a rush of breath. Sam had put on a deep blue, v-necked t-shirt that clung to his upper body and just brushed the top of the jeans that were slung low on his hips. He was glistening with sweat from his time in the kitchen and strands of hair clung to his forehead and cheekbones. His feet were bare and Dean wanted to forget about dinner and make a meal out of Sam.

    He had taken this all in, perusing Sam from head to toe, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sam’s flush had deepened as Dean’s eyes had roamed over him. Their eyes met and they both knew how this night was going to end.

     Dean cleared his throat. “So, I’m assuming you’re plying me with red meat and wine so you can take advantage of me?”

     “Well, even with no memory, I know the way to your heart is through your stomach”, Sam chuckled. “Sit down and I’ll grab the food.”

    It only took a moment and Sam returned with a platter with two huge ribeyes and baked potatoes. One more trip and a salad and hot rolls were added.

     “Oops, I forgot the wine.” He came back and filled Dean’s glass with a deep red Bordeaux.

     “You probably prefer beer but I thought the wine might be nice.” Sam was the one who was nervous now. He’d been focused on preparing dinner and hadn’t let himself think about the rest of the evening. He picked up his wine glass and held it out.

     “To the future. Our future.”

     Dean tapped Sam’s glass with his own. “I can drink to that.”

     While they ate, they made small talk. Dean did most of the talking. That was when he wasn’t chewing and moaning in pleasure. He declared Sam’s steak the best he’d ever eaten. Sam’s face lit up at the compliment.

     Dean regaled Sam with some of the funnier moments from their childhood. He didn’t want to stop because he hadn’t seen Sam laugh this much with such carefree abandon in, well, their whole lives.

     They finished one bottle of wine and Sam brought another with a fresh-baked apple pie.

     “Sammy, you’re the best brother ever”, Dean declared solemnly as he lifted a huge slice onto his plate.

     The candles were burning low as they finished the last of the wine. The conversation drifted off and they were left contemplating what to do next. They both knew what they wanted but were unsure of how to proceed. Sam because he had no memory and Dean because he did.

     Finally, Sam stood. “I’ll clean this up later.” Suddenly he seemed younger than his thirty-two years, hesitant and self-conscious. He shoved his hands in his jeans, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

    “Come on, Sammy. I’ll help you clean this tomorrow. I’m beat.” Sam nodded gratefully and blew out the candles.  

      They made their way to Dean’s room. Sitting on the bed, he removed his boots and leaned back. Extending his hand to Sam, he said, “Come on, Sammy. Let‘s just relax together.”

     Sam joined Dean on the bed and lay alongside him, head on his shoulder, one arm and leg slung over him. It was comforting and some of the sudden nerves drained away. He knew that he and Dean had done more than cuddle or kiss for years but he felt like a scared kid.

 

    Dean could sense Sam’s uncertainty. It had to be disconcerting to not remember anything that had transpired before. He wanted to make Sam comfortable but the problem was he _wanted_ Sam. Naked. Now.

     Sam tilted his head up so that he could look at Dean. He lifted a trembling finger to Dean’s lips, tracing the outline until they parted with a shuddering breath.

     They shifted so that they lay side by side, their faces inches apart. Their hands began an exploration of the other’s body, rediscovering the touch and feel of each other’s skin. Dean combed his fingers through Sam’s hair, loving how it felt falling over his hand, like silk it was so soft. His knuckles skimmed the curve of Sam’s cheekbone then down over the soft skin of his neck. Sam shivered as Dean traced along the vee of his t-shirt, over his chest and stomach to rest lightly at his waist.

      Sam’s hands went to the buttons of Dean’s shirt opening each one until he could touch the bare skin of Dean’s chest. He pressed his hand over Dean’s heart, feeling the rapid beats under his fingers.

     It was the most natural thing in the world to press his lips against his brother’s. The kiss was tender, gentle. It centered him and all nervousness and hesitation fled at the touch of Dean’s lips. He knew that no matter how lost he might be, how far he might wander, he would always find his way back to Dean.

 

          They continued to do nothing more than kiss, pouring their longing, their need into each touch of their lips. After a while, the kisses became rougher, demanding, their mouths slanting across the other, tongues meeting and exploring in an effort to slake their thirst for each other.

     They broke apart just long enough to shed their clothing before coming back together, no barriers between them. Sam expected the earth to shake and tremble because surely this feeling was too big to be contained. The feel of his brother’s skin, the taste of his lips. How could he forget this?

     Dean had forgotten nothing, even though it had been more than a year.

     There was no need for words. Just hushed murmurs of one another’s name as lips ghosted over glistening skin. Soft moans and muted gasps as one brother worshiped the other with the fervor of the most devoted penitent.

     Sam wanted to taste every freckle that had been scattered across the landscape of his brother’s body like so many stars. His lips followed their trail across the blush of Dean’s cheeks, over the rise of his heaving chest, the fluttering muscles of his stomach, down each leg nipping lightly behind a knee, biting the flesh of a calf, until he worked his way back to settle between Dean’s legs where he used his mouth to elicit the most delicious sounds from his brother.

     When Dean couldn’t take anymore, he entwined his fingers in Sam’s long hair and pulled him up and met his lips where he devoured that talented mouth before rolling Sam beneath him. His lips grazed along Sam’s jaw line, nipping at the stubbled skin before moving on to the sensitive skin of Sam’s neck. Sam arched against him giving him better access and he fastened his lips on the long line of Sam’s throat, sucking and biting, marking his little brother as his again.

    His tongue followed the salty traces of sweat from Sam’s throat across the line of his collarbone, down over one pec to fasten on a nipple, teasing it before dragging his lips across the dusting of fine hair on Sam’s chest to the other nipple. Dean’s hands slid down his brother’s body and grasped the hard length of him, stroking him while his lips continued their leisurely exploration of the beauty that was his little brother’s form.

     Sam felt like he had lost the ability to form coherent words, but he was able to gasp, between whimpers and moans, “Dean…ahhh god…need….fuck…I need…..want to…”

     Dean knew exactly what Sam wanted, what he needed, so he let Sam take control because he wanted, _needed_ , exactly what his little brother did.

     Sam knew how to take his time, to make Dean so desperate for him that when he felt Sam’s long fingers, slick and cool, between his legs, he welcomed the intrusion, canting his hips to allow better access. Sometimes, like now, Dean thought his brother was set on killing him with pleasure which, at this moment, didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

     Finally, Sam was kissing him, holding one of Dean’s legs up and setting it over his shoulder, planting a kiss on the meaty flesh of Dean’s calf before guiding his cock to Dean’s entrance. Sam pushed his hips forward bit by bit, working his way in slowly, until Dean was at his limits and he pushed his own hips against Sam taking him all of the way in.

     They were both breathing heavily, and they lay like this, connected in the most intimate way for several minutes, just reveling in the feel of each other until Sam started move. Slow at first, pulling almost all of the way out before rocking back in, setting a rhythm that Dean responded to instinctually, meeting Sam thrust for thrust.

     “Want to see you touch yourself,” Sam breathed, between frenzied kisses of Dean’s mouth. He changed the angle of his hips, making Dean cry out with pleasure, as his cock hit Dean’s sweet spot again and again.

      The only word Dean could speak was his brother’s name, over and over. He stroked himself in times with Sam’s thrusts, which had sped up as he felt his orgasm building. He grabbed Dean’s shoulders fucking him hard and deep, until he felt him come apart beneath him, clenching around him and he followed, his release so intense he finally understood why the French called this “la petite morte.” The little death.

     He could die happily in his big brother’s arms in this very moment. Neither one could move a muscle for several minutes, but finally, Sam pulled out and rolled to lay beside Dean. He stood up and walked to the sink to grab a glass of water which he drank in one long gulp. Dean watched him, admiring the play of muscles in Sam’s back and butt.

     “Sammy, you’ve got a great ass.”

     Sam chuckled, pouring another glass of water to bring back to Dean. As he walked towards the bed, Dean cocked one eyebrow, and leered at Sam. “You’re front isn’t too bad either, you know.”

     Sam bent down and snatched his t-shirt off the ground and threw it at Dean. “Right back ‘atcha.”

     Dean cleaned himself up as best he could with Sam’s shirt and took the proffered glass of water gratefully. They settled down, side by side, too hot to do more than link their hands together on the bed between them.

 

     Sam let out a long sigh. "You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked.         

     “Yeah. I’m great, actually. I just don’t see how I could forget something like that.” Sam Sam scrubbed one hand over his face before combing through his fingers through his damp hair.

     Leaning over, Dean touched his lips against Sam’s tenderly. “You didn’t forget me, Sam, just the details.”

     “Kind of a lot of details, Dean.”  

      “Well, don’t worry. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll just have to keep trying to jog your memory.“ Sam smiled at the implications. “Now, let’s get some sleep.”Dean lay back down and rubbed his bare foot against Sam’s calf.

     “I have to say, Sammy, as first dates go, that was awesome.”

     Dean closed his eyes to Sam’s delighted laughter.

 

      Looking back, the next three weeks would be the best of Dean’s life. Mornings usually began with one of them waking the other with their mouth or hands on their brother’s hard dick. The first time Dean awoke to Sam’s busy mouth around his cock, he came immediately, and then he let Sam fuck him under the shower while he came again, screaming Sam’s name.

      Sometimes, they would just rub against each other, kissing lazily, the friction bringing them to orgasm slowly and completely. Or Sam would wrap his long fingers around their dicks and jerk them off together.

    It was the first time in their lives that they indulged themselves completely in each other without worry or guilt.

    They only ventured out of the bunker a few times to get supplies and, in one instance, to grab dinner. They ended up hanging out and playing pool and there was a woman, stacked, with long curling black hair and blue eyes that gleamed like sapphires. The problem was they gleamed and glittered in Sam’s direction. Dean watched as she flirted outrageously with his little brother. Sam did nothing to encourage her, just turned her advances away with dimpled smiles and polite words. But, when she grabbed Sam’s ass, which he had to admit did look delectable in his tight jeans, Dean had finally had enough.

 

       He threw his pool cue on the table and stalked over to his brother. The woman must have seen the stark anger on his face because she backed away at his approach. Dean grabbed Sam’s face between his hands and kissed him, hard and demanding. Sam gave as good as he got, responding to Dean’s mouth on his with a passion that left them both breathless. When they parted, the woman was gone and, two minutes later, so were they.

      As Dean navigated his way through the icy roads, Sam sat against him, one hand stroking and kneading Dean’s dick through his jeans, his lips just touching Dean’s ear as he whispered, “Are you jealous, Dean? You are, I can tell. You’re all I want Dean. Only you. Want you to fuck me when we get home. Make me yours. You want to fuck me Dean?”

     They didn’t make it to a bed. Dean practically tore Sam’s clothes off before pushing him against the edge of the library table. “Lay back, Sammy”, he growled and while Sam complied he removed his own clothes. He spent the next hour driving Sam insane with his mouth and tongue, teasing him by flicking the tip of his tongue against Sam’s opening, then pushing it in deep while Sam writhed and whimpered and begged. Finally, he took pity and replaced his tongue with his rock-hard cock, fucking Sam slow until he came untouched, arching off the table and breaking what was probably a priceless antique lamp in the process.

     Neither one of them noticed the shattering of glass until later. And then, they just didn’t care.

     They were completely wrapped up in each other. They fucked when and where they wanted. They spent hours just kissing, telling each other exactly how they felt without speaking a word.

     One night, Sam was riding him, undulating his hips in a way that had Dean teetering on the edge of orgasm, wanting to come but not wanting the sensations to end. Sam had always been uninhibited in bed but, right now, he looked positively wanton. He looked gorgeous, head thrown back, body glistening with sweat, hair damp, pink mouth open and making the most lovely, desperate noises as he fucked himself on Dean’s cock.

     Dean reached out and began stroking Sam’s dick fast and hard, wanting to see Sam come. “Yeah, that’s right, Sammy. Come on. Fuck, you’re so good, Sammy.”

     He gasped at Dean’s words, slamming himself down as Dean thrust up. His orgasm began to build somewhere deep inside him, and it rolled through him, gathering momentum and he was hit with wave after wave of sensation so intense it brought tears to eyes. Dean loved seeing Sam shake apart above him, the only words his little brother could muster, coming out in a whisper instead of a shout. “God, Dean…I love you…. _please…please_ …”

     He couldn’t help himself. Grabbing Sam’s hips he thrust himself up into Sam, mindlessly, until he was coming himself with a low grunt of pleasure.

     Afterwards, they lay together, sweat cooling on their skin, and Dean felt nothing but contentment. Happiness.

     He should have known it was too good to be true.

 

     The day began like any other. Dean woke to Sam pressed up against his back, lips trailing down the side of his neck while Sam’s hand was wrapped around his dick, stroking him to full hardness.

     He sighed contentedly, “Mornin’, Sammy.”

     He could feel Sam, hard and hot, between the cheeks of his ass. Sam put two fingers into Dean’s mouth. “Suck on them.“

     Dean complied, happily. He sucked Sam’s fingers into his mouth, licking between them, pretending it was Sam’s cock in his mouth. Sam was sliding his hard length along the crease of his ass, probing at his opening but not slipping in. Dean bucked back against him wanting to feel Sam inside and he continued to suck greedily at his brother’s long fingers.

      A moment later he felt those fingers slip inside him. He was still loose and open from a very early-morning session of mind-blowing sex, so there was little resistance.

     “Yeah, Sammy, feels so good.”

     Sam added a third, then a fourth finger, scissoring them inside of Dean, taking his time. Sam’s voice came, low and dirty, “Show me how much you want me, Dean. Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

     Dean complied, arching his back so he could drive them deeper inside of him.

     “Tell me what you want, Dean. If you want me to fuck you, you have to ask.” Sam’s voice was pure sex and Dean thought he might come just from listening to his brother’s filthy mouth..

     “Want you. Want you, Sammy. Want you to fuck me. Please.”

     That was all it took. Sam removed his fingers and drove himself inside of his brother with one long stroke. Dean gasped at the sensation and began to move his hips back and forth while Sam held himself still.

     “Love to feel you inside of me, Sammy. Love you.”

     Over the past few weeks, Sam had told Dean countless times that he loved him. Dean had always replied with a kiss instead of the words. It was almost like he was afraid to say them. Like it was bad luck or something.

      “I love you, too, Dean.” He whispered against Dean’s temple as he finally began to move.

     What Sam was feeling was almost too much. He felt like his heart was gong to burst. His orgasm caught him by surprise and he cried out, biting down on Dean’s shoulder as he came inside his brother.

     He lay against Dean, catching his breath. Dean hadn’t come so he lazily slid his hand up and down the hard length.

     Pulling out, he rolled Dean on his back and slid down to take Dean’s cock in his mouth. He knew Dean was already close so he took him in as far as he could, hollowing his cheeks as Dean gasped at the sensation. Dean couldn’t help himself. Grabbing a handful of Sam’s hair, he fucked Sam’s mouth desperately. Sam wanted this, wanted to taste his brother, so he held still until Dean came, spurting hot and thick into his mouth. He swallowed as much as he could, still sucking at Dean’s softening cock until Dean made a sound that was a combination of pain and pleasure.

     Sam planted a loud kiss on Dean’s belly and moved to lay beside him.

     “Damn, Sammy, you trying to kill me?”

     Dean couldn’t see Sam’s face but he could feel his smile. “I can stop anytime you want.”

     “Nah. I mean, what a way to go.”

     They were quiet a minute and then Sam whispered softly, “I love you, Dean. That’s one thing I could never forget.”

     Dean hugged Sam closer and responded. “I love you too, little brother. And don’t you ever forget _that._ ”

 

 

 

     When, Dean woke up almost four hours later, he was alone.

     He showered and headed to the library where he assumed Sam would be reading.

     Looking at the spot where the missing lamp had set, he smiled to himself. Next stop was the kitchen. No Sam.

     The archives, the garage, outside where the impala sat in another blanket of fresh snow.

     No Sam anywhere.

     Dean felt panic start to set in. Not again. No way.

     Maybe, in his own room?

     Dean practically ran to Sam’s room and felt a wave of relief wash over him when he saw Sam sitting on his bed a book in his hand. The feeling was short-lived when Sam looked up at him.

     His eyes were red, cheeks tear-stained and almost white.Dean immediately went and sat on the bed next to Sam.

     “Sammy, what’s the matter?”

      Not saying anything, Sam handed over the book, it was actually a spiral notebook, to Dean. Looking down, he saw pages filled with Sam’s handwriting.

    _May 1, 2008. I am going to save my brother. I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what I have to do. He doesn’t understand. He says I’m stronger than him. But I’m not. I’m weak. He doesn’t even know how weak. If he goes to Hell because he saved my life, I don’t know what I will do. How can I live with myself, knowing he is in HELL because of me? I won’t let it happen. I won’t. I WON’T._

     Dean looked at the first page and saw the writing there. _Sam Winchester’s Journal_.

 

     “Sammy..”

     “No, Dean. It’s so much worse than I thought. This is the first one I found and I’ve looked at others. I’ve been the cause of so much death. Mom’s death. Your death.” Sam took a deep breath before continuing on. “I killed that poor kid, Kevin.”

     “Sammy, that wasn’t your fault, it was mine. That’s not on you.” Why in the hell hadn’t he thought to scour Sam’s room for anything that might give Sam clues to the shitstorm that had been their pasts?

     He was so fucking stupid. He should have packed them both up and driven to Canada. Or Florida.

      _ **FUCK**_.

      Sam looked at his hands clasped in his lap and his voice came so low that Dean had to strain to hear at first. “Demon blood, Dean. I drank it and went off with a demon. I let Lucifer out and started the Apocalypse. The fucking Apocalypse!” He was shouting now. “Why would I do something like that? Why didn’t you stop me?”

     Taking Sam’s hands in his, Dean’s voice was firm. “Sammy, look at me.” When he didn’t respond, Dean lifted Sam’s chin with one hand so he could look into those beautiful eyes that, once again, were clouded with pain and guilt.

     “You are a good person. The best and you thought you were doing the right thing. You spent almost two centuries in Hell, Sam, because you took on Lucifer and won.”

     “It wasn’t long enough, Dean.” His eyes were hard now and his voice firm. “I could have closed the gates of Hell forever. You should have let me die, Dean. You should have let me go.”

     Dean stood up and Sam flinched at the anger in his voice. “How can you say that after the last three weeks? Does anything I’ve said to you matter? I’ll tell you one more time, Sam, because this is a discussion I’m tired of having. I cannot let you die. Not if there’s some way to save you. I won’t do it. I _can’t_.”

     Silent tears fell down Sam’s face and Dean sat back down wiping them gently away. “I love you, you big dope. So don’t ask me to watch you die, because that’s never gonna happen. I’m sorry but I’m a selfish dick.”

     Sam gave a watery laugh. “Well, you are a dick.” Sam’s face became serious once again. “I told you that I didn’t want to be brothers anymore. I’m sorry, Dean.”

     “You have nothing to be sorry for, Sammy. I said worse than that. Way worse and I could tell you how sorry I am but it doesn’t erase it.”

     They were both silent for a moment and then Sam spoke. “Dean, I need to remember.”

     Goddamn fucking hell. “No, Sam, you don’t. There’s so much, too much. Haven’t you been happy these last few weeks, Sammy?”

     Sam cupped Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him tenderly. “Yes, Dean, that’s precisely why I need to recover my memories. I came in here looking for something that might help me remember and I found these. You have to understand, Dean, I want to remember the good things. I’ve forgotten everything you and I have shared. I need those memories back, Dean.”

     “Dammit, Sam.” Dean knew that once Sam had made up his mind there was no going back. “Where do you want to start?”

     “I can start with these.” He motioned towards the notebooks strewn across the bed.

     “No.” Sam looked up in surprise. “Did reading any of this help? Have you remembered anything?”

     Sam shook his head.

     “Okay, then, just put those away. What’s in there is just part of the story, Sam. You need to remember it all. My part in everything too. Everything that’s happened is not your fault.” Dean ran his fingers through his short hair. “What do we do first?”

     “We need to start with the night you found me.” Sam stood up. “I woke up in a glade.” Sam’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. “It was cold as hell, but it was warm underneath me. And the grass was green , soft.”

     “Do you think you can find it again?”

     “I’ve got to try.” Sam grabbed his heavy jacket and shrugged into it. “Come on, Dean.”      

     Dean turned to follow his brother and he had a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something bad was about to happen. Again.

 

      They trudged, side by side through the snowy woods. Dean wanted to turn back but Sam insisted on going just a little further. Sam’s definition of a little further was another thirty minutes of slogging through cold and wet, and dammit, did he really want Sam to even find this place?

     Dean sat down on a fallen log and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sam! Just hold on a minute. I need a break.”

     Sam waved in response but then he looked to his right and cocked his head. “Dean! Over here!”

     He disappeared into the trees and Dean jumped up to follow. “Dammit, Sam, wait for me!”

     Dean followed the trail Sam’s boots had left and traversed a narrow but distinct path through the pines. At the end of the path, the trees grew together and he had to push his way through thick branches. He stumbled from between the trees and entered a clearing.

     In the center of the clearing, Sam knelt on a circle of lush, green grass. He looked up at Dean. “This is it. It has to be. It’s warm, Dean.” He laid his bare hand on the ground in amazement.

     “Sammy, why don’t you come out of there? Until we know what’s going on.”

     The light within the circle looked brighter than the surrounding area. It seemed to shimmer and pulse. How could Sam not see it?

    “I think you should get out of there, Sam. There’s something weird going on here.”

      Sam seemed transfixed by what was before him. “Dean…it’s the color of your eyes.”

     The light began to intensify, blinding Dean. He flung his hands over his eyes, and then it disappeared. When he opened them again, there was a glowing figure of a woman standing in the circle with Sam.

     Dean knew instantly what she was. Fucking hell.

     He ran the short distance to the circle and stopped as the woman turned her eyes to him. She was thin and pale, with long flowing hair that was so light it was almost white. She wore a flowing robe of the palest green, trimmed with silver. Her most striking feature, though, was her eyes. They were the exact color of the grass that Sam still knelt upon.

     “Hello, Dean,” her voice was musical, like a brook running lightly over a bed of pebbles.

     “Don’t touch him!” Dean bellowed.She just smiled and that just pissed Dean off all the more.

      “I should have known. The bright light, the circle? Tell me, Tinkerbell, what the hell did you do to my brother? ”

     Sam seemed to snap out of his daze and it was like he was seeing the being in front of him for the first time.

     “A fairy?” Sam whispered.

     She laughed again and Dean wanted to pull out his pistol and empty it into her smug, beautiful face. That wouldn’t help Sam, though, so he refrained from making a move.

     “I’m more than a fairy, sweet boy. I am a fairy goddess.”

     “Well good for you”, Dean sneered. She went on as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “I am Arianrhod. I am the one who granted your wish, Sam.”

     Sam looked puzzled. “Wish?”

      “You erased his memory”, Dean stated. Of course, he had known that the moment he had realized what she was.

     “If someone kneels in a magic circle under the full moon, and wishes with all of their heart, I will hear their call. Sometimes, I will answer and grant what it is that they desire.” She looked down at Sam. “He was so desperate, in so much pain. I took pity on him.”

    “I wished to forget”, Sam murmured.

     “Yes. And is this not what you wished for?” Her voice took on a hint of steel. “I left the image of your brother in your mind, along with what you feel for him. Some things are too powerful to erase completely. Everything else, I took from you.”

     “Well, thanks for that. Now put it back”, Dean demanded. Fucking fairies, man.

    She turned a stony gaze to Dean. “Do not seek to command me, Dean Winchester. You will regret it, I assure you.”

    Sam stood up hastily, throwing Dean a stern look, and brought the fairy’s attention back to him.

 

 

           “Arianrhod, you’re right. I came here and I was upset and I did feel hopeless, in that moment. But, you have to understand, I didn’t really want to forget my past. Because,” he glanced at Dean, “there are so many good things that I never want to forget. So, I’ll take the bad with all of those moments that have made my life worth living.”

     She tilted her head to one side, considering. “So, you are willing to take back all that you wished to forget? Even those memories that are buried so deep they were beyond your recall except in dreams?”

     Dean spoke up not liking the sound of that. “Just hold it right there. What do you mean? He has memories that he didn’t even know he had?”

     “Dean…” Sam trailed off and looked at Arianrhod. “I need my past. It’s part of me. The bad and the good. So, yes, I want it all returned.”

     “Sammy,” Dean pleaded, “let’s talk about this. Okay? We can come back. We can find this place again.”

     He dropped to his knees next to Sam. It really was warm. He should have been in here all along instead of freezing his ass off while he argued with the queen of the munchkins.

     Arianrhod spoke. “Once I am gone, I will not return. I will remove this place to the fairy realm where it will remain."

      Sam cupped his brother’s face in his hands and Dean could see, looking into his eyes, his mind was already made up.

      “Dean, I have to do this. It’ll be okay.” He turned to the fairy and took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

     Laying her hand softly on Sam’s forehead, Arianrhod began to glow. Then she leaned down to him and spoke almost tenderly. “One thing to always remember, Sam Winchester, is to be careful what you wish for.”

     “No! Wait!” Dean tried to push her away but she was an immovable force.

     The light was blinding, engulfing Sam. “Cuimhnigh go deo.”* And then she was gone.

When the light cleared, Dean was kneeling on the snow, cold soaking through the knees of his jeans.

     Sam was lying on his back. His eyes were closed and his eyelashes looked like soot against his pale skin. Dean shook him gently.

    “Sam. Sammy? Come on. Wake up.”

     Dean breathed a sigh of relief as his brother’s eyes opened but it was short-lived. They were unfocused, his pupils dilated. Sam blinked a few times and then looked at Dean.

     “Sammy?”

      Sam opened his mouth and screamed.

 

*Forever remember

 

 

      

 

 


	3. Third Song

 

 

_Limb by limb and tooth by_ tooth

_Tearing up inside of me_

_Every day every hour_

_I wish that I was bullet proof_

_Wax me Mould me_

_Heat the pins and stab them in_

_You have turned me into this_

_Just wish that I was bullet proof_

 

                                                                      “Bulletproof(I Wish I Was)” by Radiohead

 

 

    “Sammy, get your sorry ass out of bed! You’re gonna be late for school!”

     Sam hid his head under his pillow. Dean was such a jerk. He was never late for school and he was thirteen and he would get himself out of bed when he was goddamn good and ready.

     Dean wasn’t Dad and he could stop acting like he was. The pillow was ripped off his head and Sam squawked angrily, flailing his arms as he rolled over.

    “What the hell, Dean?”

    Dean smirked. “I don’t have time for you to jerk off this morning. I’m meeting Diane for breakfast. So get up. Now."

       He was out the door before Sam could even think of a good comeback.

     Sam could feel that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Any time Dean talked about girls lately, Sam just felt…

    Jealous. He felt jealous and how stupid was that? He was so screwed in the head.

     He should just find himself a girlfriend and he would parade her in front of Dean and he would make sure that Dean saw him kiss her.

     How messed up was he, that he could have a crush on his big brother?

     “Sam! Come on, we’re going to be late. Brady got us reservations at that new restaurant.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “You can take off studying for one night.”

     Smiling, Sam closed the book he was reading and looked up at his girlfriend. “You look beautiful, Jess.”

     He stood and she put her arms around his neck. Sam kissed her soft mouth and she smiled up at him. 

     “I love you, Sam Winchester.”

    “Sam! Watch out!”

     Sam ducked and narrowly missed having his head taken off by the harpy they had been hunting. The thing shrieked in anger when it missed Sam and turned it’s attention to Dean.

    “Yeah, come and get it, you ugly bitch.” Dean brandished his machete and the harpy screeched again. It was ear-splitting and Sam though his head was going to explode if they didn’t kill the thing soon.

     Sam saw an opening and swung his own machete in a perfect arc severing the monster’s head from it’s body. It dropped to the ground in a heap and the only thing Sam could hear was his own harsh breathing.

     Dropping his machete, Dean rushed to Sam. “Are you okay? You’ve got to be more careful, Sam.” Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother, hugging him close.

    “Whoa, I can’t breathe”, Sam wheezed, laughing. “I’m okay, Dean.” He hugged Dean back and realized he was trembling.

      “Hey, what’s the matter? Dean, talk to me.”

     “Nothing.” Dean turned away and Sam was left standing alone in confusion.

    “Sammy! Where’s my boy?”

    “Daddy!!” Sam ran to John and was scooped up in a big bear hug. “Daddy, guess what? Uncle Bobby showed me and De how to make purple pancakes! We saved you some.”

     John lowered him to the ground and took Sam’s small hand in his much larger one. “I’m starving, Sammy. Lead the way.”

     “Sam, I’m telling you. You’re deserting your family. You walk out that door, don’t you ever come back.”

     He’d known his Dad would be angry, but the argument had degenerated into something ugly and painful and this was where it was going to end.

     He glanced at his brother, pleading for him say something. Anything. But even though, Dean had tears in his eyes, his mouth was set in a hard line.

     Sam was breathless with the finality of it all. So he picked up his backpack and satchel, and dragged them, along with his broken heart to the bus station where he bought a one-way ticket to California.

     “Sam, look out!”

    He felt a white hot pain in his lower back and he slumped to his knees.

     “NOOOOOOOOO! No, Sam….”

     He could hear Dean and he wanted to answer. Tell Dean he was all right. He was just so tired. If he could just sleep. Just for a little while.

    “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sam. Sam! Hey! Hey, hey. Come here. Let me look at you.”

     It’s okay, Dean. I just need to sleep. Let’s lay down together. I’ll even be the little spoon, okay?

    “Hey, look at me. It’s not even that bad. It’s not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam!”

    Dean? It’s so dark. Why is it so dark? 

     “Hey, listen to me. We’re going to patch you up, okay? You’ll be as good as new. Huh? I’m gonna take care of you. I’ve got you. That’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam? Sam! Sammy!”

     Gonna sleep now. Love you, Dean.

     “Sammy.”

     They broke apart and Dean whispered his name as if he had found the secret to the universe.

     Their lips met again and Sam felt as though his heart might burst with the magnitude of the emotion he felt. He’d wanted this for so long. So long….

     “Sam. Sammmyyyy….”

     Oh god, he was back. He couldn’t take anymore. Please. I’ll be good. Please.

     “Please….” The word slipped from between mangled lips and he coughed up more blood.

     “Please what, Sammy?” Lucifer smiled and shook his head sadly. “I have to make sure you understand your place here. You are mine for as long as we‘re stuck in here and that might be a pretty long time. You’re nothing but a plaything. MY plaything. And I like to play, Sammy.”

     Sam was shackled, naked and spread eagled, to a table. He wasn’t sure how long he had been here. Days, weeks, years? His body was broken and mutilated in ways his mind couldn’t comprehend. Pain was his constant, and only, companion.

     “I’ll find a way out of this cage, Sam, and when I do the first thing on my list is to kill your brother.” Lucifer paused, considering. “Or maybe I’ll play first. I could start with these.”

     He was blind in his right eye but Lucifer made sure that Sam could see what he was holding. Sam didn’t know what they were. He only knew they were long, thin, and wickedly sharp.

     Lucifer walked around the table, one finger tapping his lips, as if he was deciding the best way to put his new toy to good use.

    Sam tried to follow the devil’s movements but moving his head just a fraction caused agonizing pain to shoot through his body.

     He didn’t know where Lucifer was and Sam knew this was part of the game

     Anticipation makes it all the more exciting, Lucifer had told Sam once, right before he had sliced him open from throat to pelvis.

     The pain started somewhere in his lower body and ramped up to agony quickly, blocking any other sensation in it’s enormity.

      Sam shrieked until his throat was thick with blood.

    _**DEANNNNNNNNN**_ …..

     “Sam!”

     The flames were spreading and Sam put an arm to shield his face but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the figure in the center of the conflagration.

    “Jess!”

   “Sam! Sam!” Dean was pushing him away from Jess who was burning alive just like their mother had.

     “Jess! No! NO!”

 

       His fault. It was his fault. First their mother, and now, Jess, who had loved him for the past two years and whom he had loved in return. He had loved her even though he had used her, in a way, to fill a void. A hole in his heart that had started to close, just a little, when he looked into her beautiful green eyes and ran his hand through her long blond hair.

     And now, she was dead. Because of him.

     “Sammy.”

    It was pitch black and so cold. The voice was all around him and it dripped pure evil.

     “Sammy, I’m not going to hurt you. Not much, anyway.” The devil laughed, low and rough.

    In an obscene imitation of Dean’s voice, he said, “I just want to hold you, Sammy, Make you feel good.”

    Oh god, not that. Anything but that. Sam tried to make himself as small a possible. He wrapped his arms around his nude body and tried not to breathe. Maybe he would pass out if he held his breath long enough. Of course, he had tried that before. There was no relief in unconsciousness. Not in Hell.

    When Lucifer pressed up against his back, Sam whimpered and tried to crawl away. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

    Please, no no no no…

 

   Lucifer’s lips touched his ear, tongue flicking out in an icy caress. “We’ll spoon after, I promise.”

 Sam began to fight in earnest, summoning reserves of strength he didn’t know he still possessed. Of course, it was all for naught because this was just another one of Lucifer’s games and before long, he found himself pinned down and he couldn’t help it. He felt ashamed as he started to cry.

 Even his tears were frigid and froze to his cheeks.

  He didn’t think that his torment could escalate to new heights but he was wrong. He sobbed and screamed his despair. He tried to disconnect his mind but the pain was exquisite and it couldn’t be ignored.

  When he was finished, Lucifer left him in a heap of blood and vomit. And the cold. It permeated his cells and he knew that he would never be warm again.

 “Sam. Sammy. Sam.”

 The voice was soft, caring. It sounded like his brother. But that was another favorite torture of Lucifer’s. Make him think he was with Dean and then snatch it away before flaying the skin from his body strip by strip.

  He opened his eyes and Dean was there. He was laying on a bed, tied down, but that was nothing out of the norm. When Lucifer grew tired of his struggles he would immobilize him.

  But it wasn’t usually this comfortable.  The devil liked to use barbed wire or spikes.

  And he was warm. And Dean was wiping his face with something soft  and cool. It made the throbbing in his head feel a little better.

  “Come on, Sammy. You need to drink this.” Dean helped him sit up slightly, supporting his shoulders, and he gulped greedily at the water Dean held to his lips.

“Careful. You don’t want to drink too much. You might throw it up again” Dean looked like a wreck. Dark circles under his eyes and what had to be several days growth of stubble on his tired face.

  “Dean? What’s going on?” He could almost remember.

   Remember. The fairy and the wish. Memories. That was what was happening.

  Dean confirmed it all when he asked, “So, I guess you’re remembering everything. Even Hell.” He gestured at the strips of cloth that he had used to bind Sam to the bed. “I’m sorry, Sammy, but I had to. You thought I was Lucifer.”

  “Did I hurt you?”, Sam’s voice was panicked and shaky.

 “No, don’t worry. I was more afraid you were going to hurt yourself.” Dean started to loosen the bindings. “I’m going to untie you, okay. This is about as lucid as you’ve been since that fairy bitch did her thing.”

   Sam looked around the room. There were bottles of water, and alcohol, strewn about. There were a couple of dirty plates with food beginning to stick to them and a half empty bowl of broth. Right next to the bed was a pan and plastic gloves.

  “You’ve been taking care of everything for me”. Sam face was red with shame. He rubbed at his wrists not wanting to look at Dean.

  “Hey. Look at me, little brother.” Dean took over massaging Sam’s wrists. Even though the cloth was soft, there were still red marks where he’d strained against his bonds.

  “You would do the same for me. Hell, you have before.” Sam stood up, weak and unsteady. Dean grabbed his arms, steadying him.

  “Thanks, Dean. I’m just sorry you have to deal with this.”

   Exhaling noisily, Dean pulled him into a quick hug. “Sammy.” Dean’s voice was thick with emotion. “Stop apologizing. I just wish I knew how to make all of this stop.”

  He cleared his throat and stepped back, keeping a hand on Sam’s arm. “How about a shower?”

  Looking down at himself, Sam wrinkled his nose. “That would be awesome.” He stumbled as pain shot through his head.

  Dean caught him before he could fall. “Sammy?” The obvious fear in Dean’s voice made Sam want to reassure his brother that he wasn’t going to fall over in a faint. At least, not right now.

  “My head just hurts a little. I think all of those memories flooding back at once short-circuited my wiring.” Dean held one of Sam’s hands in his and Sam squeezed it gently. “There’s a whole lot of good memories in there with the bad, Dean.”

  The bad just seemed to be  ** _really_** bad.

   He brushed the sour taste from his mouth. Dean refused to leave Sam to himself, for which Sam was actually grateful, and insisted on getting in the shower with him.

  They stood under the warm water and Sam let it pour over him, warming him. Even though Sam knew this was happening now, not in the past, he still felt frozen inside. He let Dean wash him and turned, this way and that, at his brother’s silent urging.

   He closed his eyes and immediately a memory surfaced.

   Lying encase in a block of ice, feeling his cells freeze from the inside out, his marrow and blood become slush, but still alive. Somehow alive and aware. There were no words to describe the agony that was the result of such exquisite torture. Only to have time rewound and experience the icy death again and again…

  “Sammy?”

  Dean’s voice brought him back to the present. Desperate to focus on something other than the workings of his mind, Sam covered Dean’s mouth with his own, kissing him, urgent and desperate.

  He concentrated on the texture and taste of Dean’s lips. They were soft and full and Dean tasted like mint from the toothpaste he had used along side Sam. He pushed Dean’s body against the tiled wall, while the water still rained down on them and plundered Dean’s mouth with his own.

  Finally, he pulled back and looked at Dean’s face, eyes closed, lips swollen from Sam’s bruising kisses and the memories that surfaced this time were of him and Dean. If he could just keep his focus on those, maybe he could find a way to live with everything else.

  Opening his eyes, Dean looked at his brother, worry evident in his gaze. “You okay, Sam?”

  Sam nodded and rested his forehead against Dean’s for a moment, catching his breath, before kissing Dean’s nose and reaching to turn off the shower.

   “I’m actually starving.” They stepped out and began to dry themselves.

   “Great! I haven’t been able to get much food down you the past few days. I’ll make us some lunch.”

  Sam pulled on the sweats Dean had brought for him. The pants and shirt were fleece-lined and they helped to dispel some of the chill Sam was still feeling.

  As they walked to the kitchen, Sam asked shyly, “Dean? Do you think you can just talk about good memories of us? Or anything. Us and Dad or you and Lisa. It doesn’t matter. Your voice helps me focus.”

   “Absolutely, little brother.”

   Dean talked non-stop for the next hour and Sam even smiled once or twice. He wolfed down two enormous sandwiches and drank three bottles of water. His head was still throbbing but he did his best to ignore and just listen to Dean.

   Dean was telling him about the time, Sam had been fifteen, they had snuck into a ritzy hotel’s pool and spent the night swimming and making out before sneaking out again as the sun came up.

  “Dean.” The tone of Sam’s voice stopped Dean mid-sentence.

  He looked at Sam expectantly and a little fearfully.

  “I need you to promise me something. I’ve asked you this before and you’ve promised but, when it came to honoring your word, you couldn’t do it. And I get it, Dean, I do.”

 “Sammy, don’t. Don’t ask me.”

  “I have to, Dean!” Sam was desperate to make his brother understand. “I can’t describe what it’s like. I can recall the good times. I can. And I can cope with the deaths and the things I’ve done.” Sam paused, searching for the right words.

  “It’s like I’m trapped in the cage again, Dean. Like I’m experiencing it all over again. You thought I was crazy before? That was nothing compared to this and that almost killed me.”

  “I thought Cas took all of that away. How can you be remembering any of that?” Dean peered keenly at Sam. “You’ve had dreams about the cage, haven’t you. That’s what Aragorn, or whatever the fuck her name was, meant.”

  Sam sighed. “Yeah, I have. I just thought it was my mind conjuring up my worst fears. And even if they were memories, I figured I should just learn to live with it. I mean, I‘m able to cope with what I did while I was soulless.”

  Dean snorted. “Yeah, it’s the small things.”

  “You have to promise me, Dean. If I get stuck in those memories and you can’t find a way to get me out, you have to kill me.” Sam was pleading for Dean to understand.

  “I know you love me and because you love me, you’ll do this for me. Don’t leave me to live the rest of my life in that cage.” Pausing, he took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. “Dean, please.”

  “I promise, Sammy.” Dean hugged his little brother to his chest. It wouldn’t come to that. Sam was going to be fine.

  Sam wiped at his eyes, unable to speak. He knew what it would cost Dean if he had to keep his promise.

  The dull headache that had been bothering him since he woke up started to throb in earnest. Sam massaged his temples trying to lessen the pain.

  “Sam, you okay?” Dean was worried but he tried not to let it show. Of course, that was an epic failure.

  “I think I just need to take some aspirin and lie down.”

   “Okay, sure. I’ll lay with you for a bit. I could use a nap.” Dean just wanted to be close to Sam. Keep an eye on him. Just in case.

  Sam sat in a chair while Dean changed the sheets and freshened up the room a bit. He was like a mother hen clucking about and Sam smiled to himself.

  Lying down, the ache in his head abated just a little and he sighed. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of Dean next to him. It wasn’t long before he drifted off.

  “Sam. Sammy. Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

   The voice that whispered to him wasn’t Dean. No. This was just a dream. He could open his eyes anytime and wake up and Dean would be there right beside him.

  “Then open your eyes, Sammy. Do it.”

  Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. Wake up, Sam. Come on.

  He opened his eyes to Lucifer’s grinning countenance.

  No. Dean.  _Dean_.

  “Big bro’ can’t save you. He doesn’t want to save you. Sammy, he’s living his life. Finally. He’s rid of  you and now he’s got a real family.”

    Sam tried to back away, but he realized he was bound to a chair and Lucifer was advancing, a cruel smile lighting his face.

  “We’ve played with cold, now let’s play with fire. Burn, baby, burn.”

 The cage echoed with Sam’s screams until his throat was raw.

   Please, Dean. Help me.

 

 

 

                                 **  
**

 

 

     

 


	4. Fourth Song

_ _

 

 

 

 _When you try your best, but you don't succeed_  
_When you get what you want, but not what you need_  
_When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep_  
_Stuck in reverse_

 _And the tears come streaming down your face_  
_When you lose something you can't replace_  
_When you love someone, but it goes to waste_  
_Could it be worse?_

 _Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones_  
_And I will try to fix you_

                                           “Fix You” by Coldplay

 

 

 

Watching Sam sleep had always been a favorite pastime of Dean’s. He remembered watching Sam sleeping in his bassinet after his parents had brought him home from the hospital. Watching the tiny chest rise and fall with each breath had instilled a fierce protectiveness in his four-year-old heart.

    He knew, even then, that he would go to the ends of the earth to keep his little brother safe.

   As they had grown older, Dean had continued his nightly study of his brother. By the time they were teenagers, Dean had memorized every feature, every mole, every contour and stored it away. Because, deep down, Dean had always known Sam would leave and these memories would be all he had when Sam finally did.

    As a man, Dean still loved to indulge in his nocturnal perusals of his brother.

   There were lines now that didn’t disappear when Sam finally closed his eyes and allowed exhaustion to overwhelm him. Sometimes he would toss and turn in the throes of a nightmare and Dean would pet his hair and whisper soothing words until his breathing evened out once more.

   He was still the canvas on which Dean’s dreams were laid out in exquisite detail. From the curve of his brow to the slope of his nose to the line of his full, wide mouth that Dean had tasted so many times over the years. The strong jaw, the long sweep of this throat that Dean couldn’t help touching his lips to sometimes as Sam slept on.

   Then, there had been times that Dean had slept at Sam’s bedside pretending that he was sleeping. Just sleeping. He would wake up. Of course he would. Sam’s eyes would open and he would look at Dean and everything would be right with the world again.

   After Cold Oak, it had taken Dean two days to come to terms with the fact that Sam’s eyes would never open. His lips would not widen into that smile bracketed by deep dimples that never failed to make Dean’s heart skip a beat. That broad chest would not rise and fall in time to the beat of Dean’s heart. At least not unless he took matters into his own hands.

   So, he had driven to a crossroads and sold his soul in exchange for Sam’s life. Because there was no point to anything if Sam wasn’t with him.

   He had sat beside his brother after Death had restored Sam’s soul. He had watched and waited and prayed to whatever higher power might give a damn about the boy who had overcome an archangel and saved the world. And he sat beside him when Cas had brought down the wall in Sam’s mind, spilling all of the memories of hell that had almost killed Sam in the end.

   Only five months ago, he had kept another vigil at Sam’s side. Sam had stopped the trials but not before the damage had been done. He lay dying while Dean watched, helpless, and he had made the only decision he could. He had saved his little brother, damn the consequences, and it had almost destroyed them both.

   How many more times would he have to watch his brother(his soul, his heart) struggle to make his way back from the terrors that inhabited his own mind?

    “Sammy,  _please_.” Dean’s voice sounded foreign to himself. Shaky and teary and pleading.

    It had been six days since Dean had awoken to find Sam lost to him again, fighting and crying against the terrors that stalked his dreams.

    Sam was quiet for the time being and Dean could actually pretend that Sam was only sleeping. That he would wake and smile and the nightmare that engulfed both of them would be over.

   Maybe he should take him to the hospital. Sam was losing weight rapidly, even with the IV Dean had set up for him. He couldn’t do it, though. He couldn’t hand Sam over to strangers who had no idea what he was going through. Strangers who wouldn’t understand why Sam cried and thrashed and screamed the devil’s name. Or why he smiled and whispered his big brother’s in a lovers seductive tone.

     _You promised, Dean._

   He looked at Sam, breathing softly now. The weight loss had emphasized the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the curve of his mouth. His hair was greasy and limp. Dean cleaned him up the best he could, but there was no way he could haul Sam to a shower or a sink and wash his hair.

    The sight of it made Dean want to scream at the injustice of it all. Cas had taken these memories, hadn’t he?

   If it was the last thing he did, he was going to hunt down that fairy bitch and pull off her wings just like he would a fly’s.

   What the fuck was he going to do?

   He’d searched Dad’s journal which  was absolutely no help. He’d scoured the internet and the MoL library as best he could. Even though he hated to leave Sam alone, he had made sure he was tied securely to the bed and he had trekked out to the clearing where Arianrhod had appeared and screamed himself hoarse.

   He’d found nothing to help Sam. Nothing.

    _You know how you can help me, Dean._

   No. He wouldn’t. God help him, he couldn’t.

   It was what Sam wanted but how long was he supposed to wait? What was the acceptable time frame for waiting to put your brother out of his misery because he was locked in his own mind? All because he was remembering centuries of torture at the hands of Lucifer.

    He was so damned tired. Sleep eluded him. When he did manage to doze off, it wouldn’t be long before Sam would wake him with screams.

    He couldn’t leave Sam, though. Couldn’t bear the thought of Sam waking and thinking Dean had left him before slipping away once more. Staying in this room wasn’t helping either of them, though. Dean knew he had to take the time to go through the bunker’s extensive library and research the cases the Men of Letters had kept files on. Surely, someone had crossed paths with a fairy at some point.

    There had to be a way to save his brother.

     _You know how to save him_.

    “Fuck that”, Dean grated out to no one in particular. Scrubbing his hand across the stubble on his face, he grimaced. He’d clean Sam up and then himself and then he would comb the archives for something to help Sam. It was there. He just had to find it.

    An hour later, after checking on Sam who, at the moment, was peaceful, he made his way to the library.

   “Okay, Winchester, get it together. The info’s got to be here. One of them had to come across a member of the lollipop guild at some point.”

    Hours later, Dean slammed the dusty tome he’d been reading closed in frustration.

    Nothing. Nada.

    He’d found files on alchemy, wizards, kobolds, lemurs(not the cute kind with the fuzzy tales) and even goddamn mermaids but nothing on fairies.

    It had been about forty-five minutes since he had checked on Sam. With his door open, he could hear him if he cried out. Sam had been caught in, what Dean would call a bad memory, only once today. It was bad if the way his little brother had shrieked and thrashed was any  indication.

    Maybe, he was getting better. Could his damaged mind learn to cope with these repressed memories?

   Dean allowed himself a glimmer of hope.

   That was dashed when he found Sam fighting against his restraints, animal grunts of pain coming from somewhere deep inside him. Even though Dean had used soft material to restrain him, Sam’s wrists were chafed and raw.

   Dean knelt beside Sam, trying to soothe him with soft words and gentle caresses across his brow.

    “Shhhhh…..come on, Sammy. I gotcha. It’s okay.” He repeated the litany as Sam writhed in the agony that was his memories.

   Finally, Sam stopped thrashing and gulped air in long, shaky breaths.He had dislodged the IV needle and drops of blood stained the sheets.

   “Gonna get you cleaned up, Sammy. Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you, little brother.” Now that he had a task at hand, Dean felt less like pounding his fists against the wall until they bled.

    He had learned to take care of someone unable to move when he was a kid and his Dad would stumble in injured from a hunt and pass out. Or stumble in drunk. Either way, the result was the same. Dean would have to clean him up and, sometimes, take care of him for days while he healed.

    He rolled and maneuvered Sam so he could remove the soiled sheets and put on fresh ones. Tears flooded his eyes when he removed the cloths he had used to bind Sam to the bed. The flesh underneath was raw and bleeding and would have to be cleaned and disinfected.

   “Dammit, Sam, I was only gone for a little while.” After that chore was accomplished, he decided he would give Sam a sponge bath. He brought a metal basin of warm water, a bar of sweet-smelling soap and a soft wash cloth. After carefully removing his brother’s clothes, he lovingly bathed his brother’s thinning form.

    Sam’s ribs were beginning to show and his cheeks were sunken and pale. Dean couldn’t stop the tears as he looked at his brother’s trembling body, whether from cold or another nightmare, he wasn’t sure.

   “I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m so sorry.” He whispered it over and over as he dressed Sam in a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Dean cleansed Sam’s abraded wrists gently, applying antibiotic cream and wrapping them in soft gauze.

    He brought Sam’s palm to his lips and placed a tender kiss in the center. He tasted of sandalwood soap and tears.

   “What am I going to do, Sammy? I don’t know what to do.”

    Dean was exhausted but he had to finish taking care of Sam.  He inserted another IV needle into Sam’s arm and started the drip. Tucking in a warm blanket around his brother, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Sam’s forehead. He couldn’t bear to tie him down again. Not right now. He’d just wait and hope.

    He finally dropped in the chair next to the bed, bottle of whiskey in his hand. He brought the bottle to his hand and took several long draughts. The liqour tasted warm on his tongue and mixed with the salt of the tears that still fell, unheeded.

   Before he knew it, the bottle was empty. Laying his head back and closing his eyes, he drifted off into an uneasy slumber.

 

    Someone was crying. Long, drawn-out sobs, pitiful and heart-breaking. It was a sound devoid of hope.

   “What the hell?” He shook his head to wake himself and then his chest constricted.

   The sorrowful sounds were coming from Sam.

   He moved to sit on the bed and took Sam’s hand in his own. “Sammy, hey, you’re okay.”

    The mournful sobbing went on. The sound of it made Dean’s heart ache and he could do nothing but hold his brother’s hand and try to reach him in the recesses of his mind.. To try and let him know he wasn’t alone.

    “Sam, I’m here. I’m right here. I’ve got you, Sammy.”

    His words fell on deaf ears and Sam’s cries grew harsher, his breath coming in gasps and then he started to speak.

   “Dean…Dean….help me. Please?” He drew in a shaky breath. “I was wrong. I’m not strong enough. I can’t…..I can’t do this. Please don’t leave me here, Dean. Don’t leave me with them. With  _him_.”

    “Oh god….. _Sammy._ ” Dean felt like he was choking. This was a memory. One where he had begged Dean to get him out of the cage.

    “Please, I’m sorry, Dean. Not strong….not strong enough. Please, I’m sorry. So sorry, Dean…..Dean.” Then, so low Dean almost couldn’t make them out. “Yes, I know. It’s what I deserve. Everything…my fault. Deserve it.”

    The words trailed off as the heart-wrenching sobs continued to tear themselves from his brother’s chest. Then, in between gasps of pain, “NO….no please. Don’t hurt him. Leave him alone! I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt my brother!”

     Dean dropped Sam’s hand and backed away. It was too much. Surely, Sam didn’t think he deserved the horrific things that he had been made to endure.

    Of course, Dean had known Lucifer had used him to break Sam down but hearing it confirmed was torture itself.

    Sam was pleading for him to help him. Release him. He’d promised, hadn’t he?

    There was still a half-empty bottle of bourbon and Dean took three long pulls. Sam’s anguished sobs went on behind him and Dean knew what he had to do.

    Opening his desk drawer, he removed his Beretta. It seemed heavier than normal in his hand and, when he chambered the round, the sound surely must have echoed through the entire bunker.

    He laid the gun on the nightstand before sitting, once again, beside Sam. He wiped at the tears that flowed down his little brother’s face. Sam’s sobs had diminished into pitiful whimpers.

    “Sammy”, Dean’s voice broke and he had start again. “Sammy, I’m sorry. I’ve tried my whole life to protect you. I’ve done a piss-poor job of it, I know. And, I’ve been a selfish bastard.” Dean grinned wryly. “I know you agree with that one.”

    He took Sam’s hand in his once more, entwining his fingers with Sam’s.”I know I’ve hurt you, Sammy, too many times to count.” He squeezed Sam’s hand and swiped again at the tears that still made their way down Sam’s cheeks. His own tears, he refused to acknowledge.

    “I need you to know, Sammy. I hope you know….I love you, Sam, more than anything in this world. I wish I had said it more. Hell, I wish I had said it a million times. You deserved to hear it, Sam.” He placed Sam’s hand on the bed and stood.

   Sam’s tears had finally ceased and he was breathing easier. Leaning forward, Dean grazed Sam’s lips with his own.

    “I love you, little brother.”

    Dean placed tender kisses on Sam’s forehead, the tip of his nose and, his lips, once again, lingering for a long moment. The words he had always been afraid to speak, now came easily. Why had three little words always been so difficult for him to say?

    Maybe it was because every person he had ever said them to wound up dead.

    Taking his gun in his hand, he stood and pressed the muzzle to Sam’s temple. All he had to do was put his finger on the trigger and pull.

    Just one small action and he would end his brother’s life and his own, for all intents and purposes.

    Dean’s vision blurred as tears began to fall swiftly. Sam looked so peaceful right now, like he actually might just be asleep.

    Closing his eyes, Dean didn’t see the broken man before him. Instead, he saw a beautiful little boy with wild curls and dimples that he had already figured out how to use to wrap his older brother around his finger.

    “Pick me up, De. Wead a tory.” And Dean would pick him up and they would snuggle together, and the toddler would fall asleep with one hand curled around Dean’s neck and, even then, Dean would feel ridiculously happy.

    One memory faded into another into another.

    A three-year-old Sam, face flushed red and streaked with dirt, one chubby fist closed around a bunch of weeds, smiling up at Dean so sweetly. “Fwowers for you, De.”

    When Dean was twelve and miserable with the flu, Sam had made him tomato-rice soup because “It was what Mom would have made you.”

   Teaching Sam how to ride a bike, wrestle, shoot a gun, drive the impala….how to kiss.

   Watching Sam close his eyes, after a last silent goodbye, stretching his arms wide and falling into the pit taking Lucifer, Michael, Adam and Dean’s heart into the darkness.

    His little brother’s life was passing before his eyes, because his brother was his life.

    Sam smiling, laughing, screaming in anger, crying in pain. Sam saying Dean’s name in a thousand different ways in as many situations. Shouting when he was terrified, hurt, furious.

    And, he could remember the countless times Sam had cried out in the heat of passion, all of the profound emotion he was feeling conveyed in the single syllable that was his brother’s name.

    Blinking away his tears, Dean steadied his trembling hand. Sam had implored Dean to release him from the weight of those centuries in Hell.

   His finger curled around the trigger, Dean couldn’t breathe.

   In the small space, the shot was deafening.

   Dean dropped to his knees, gun clattering to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

    “I’m sorry, Sammy. Please forgive me.” The dust from where the bullet had shattered the brick wall settled over them both.

    “I can’t do it, Sammy. I can’t.”

 

        Dean’s head was pounding. If the truly heinous taste in his mouth was any indication it was the result of drinking. A lot of drinking. Again.

      He had to piss like a racehorse and what the fuck was he doing on the floor?

    Yawning loudly, Dean rubbed at his eyes. They hurt like a sonofabitch. Because….

   His eyes flew open and he sat straight up as it all came flooding back. Sam, the gun and his inability to, once again, give his brother the one thing he truly wanted.

   Death and the peace that would come with it.

   Pulling himself to the edge of the bed, he peered at Sam . His brother slept, chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm, the only evidence of the demons that haunted him were the salty tracks of his tears.

   Bathroom, then some coffee and food, see to Sam, then back to the archives. If he didn’t find something soon, he would have no choice but to take Sam to the hospital. He couldn’t take care of a comatose Sam forever on his own. He just didn’t have the equipment or the expertise.

   He stopped in the kitchen to brew coffee and scramble some eggs. He ate the eggs right from the frying pan and, pouring himself a second cup of coffee headed back to his room and Sam.

   As he turned down the hallway, the coffee cup slipped to the floor and Dean broke into a dead run.

   Brilliant gold light filled the hall and it emanated from the room where Sam lay.

   He skidded to a halt in the doorway. The entire room was alight as if the sun had decided to shine indoors. The light was brightest where Sam lay, a strange woman sitting at his side. The light, Dean realized, radiated from her.

   “Hey! Sunshine! Get away from my brother.”  His duffel was right inside the door and he grabbed the pistol that lay on top. Gun fixed on the woman, he moved cautiously inside the room.

   As she turned to face him, the brilliant light grew until Dean had to shield his eyes. Then it vanished in a flash leaving only it’s source remaining.

    The woman still glowed with an inner light. The phrase ‘kissed by the sun’ must have been created to describe her. Flawless golden skin, long blonde curls that hung below her waist and slanted tawny eyes that she had probably used to bedazzle men and women alike.

   Dean took her beauty in and dismissed it with one dispassionate gaze. Okay, yeah, she was beautiful and the curves underneath her gilded robe were porn star worthy. But the one feature he couldn’t take his eyes off of was the one thing that told him exactly what she was.

   From her back, gossamer wings of spun gold quivered, stirring the air around her.

   “I swear to god, I’m starting to feel like I live in fucking Neverland.” Dean gestured with his gun. “Now, one more time. Step away from my brother.”

   “Or what? You’ll shoot me?” She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow and smiled. “I’ve come here to help you, Dean. And your brother.”

   “Oh, yeah, because you and your kind have been so helpful up to this point”, Dean scoffed.

   She looked to Sam and back to him, all traces of humor gone, only sadness showing in her eyes.

   “You are right, Dean. You have interacted with some of the worst of our kind.” She shrugged. “Leprechauns are notorious for their trickery and Arianrhod is a lost soul who takes out her misery on whomever she can find.”

    “Yeah, well we took care of Lucky Charms and Tinkerbell is next on my list.”  

    “I will deal with Arianrhod. She blames all mortals for the losses she has endured.” She waved her hand. “No matter. Her troubles should not be yours. Or your brother’s. I am Rhiannon, Queen of Faeries, and I am here to offer my assistance.”

   “Rhiannon? Like the song? Oh well, that explains it. Stevie Nicks has got to be one of you guys.”

    She looked perplexed. “I have been the subject of many songs over the centuries. But I am unaware of any fairy folk named Stevie.”

    “Never mind.” Dean lowered the gun and laid it on the nightstand by the bed. He laid his hand gently on Sam’s brow. “I have two questions for you. How did you get in here and can you fix him?”

    “You are both touched by the fey. You have been to our world. Once you are touched by the fairy, it leaves a residue, if you will. This place is protected but not unknown to us.” She paused, tears shining in her eyes. “ I felt the torrent of intense emotion that emanated from this place.  I was able to use that and the magic that resides within you to gain entrance.”

  Now it was Dean’s turn to look puzzled. “Magic? What magic? Do you mean I can heal Sam?”

   “You spent more time with us than you remember, Dean Winchester, and you brought some of our magic with you. Combine the fairy magic with the intense love you feel for your brother and you have the means to help him shoulder the burden of his memories.” She reached into the fold of her robe and pulled out two intricately designed medallions on thin gold chains.

  “These are the Serch Bythol. It is a symbol representing the binding of two people in body, mind and spirit. You and your brother are bound thus, and you share the added bond of blood.” She drew a slender gold knife from another fold. “We will use these and the bond of your love for one another to work a blood magic.”

   “And this will heal, Sammy. He’ll be all right?” It seemed too easy. What was the catch?

    “There are some things that are seared into our very souls. They become part of us and they can never be truly forgotten. These memories have been buried deep in your brother’s psyche, even after the angel removed his hallucinations.” She looked deep into Dean’s eyes and then continued. “The blood magic will bind you even closer and the talismans will amplify that bond. Your love for one another will act as a conduit for you to help your brother shoulder his burden.”

   “You mean, like a Vulcan mind-meld?”  At the fairy’s blank expression, he tried again. “Will I be able to read his thoughts? Will I see what happened to him in Hell?”

   “You will help to alleviate the power these experiences hold over him. Hell has left a mark on both your souls as well. One more that binds you together. There is power in fear and pain but there is also power in courage and love.” She touched Dean’s cheek as a mother would a child. “You may feel what he feels once or ten thousand times, I do not know. You have both known so much pain. Yet, you are both willing to shoulder the burdens of the other.”

    She turned to Sam and caressed his cheek in the same loving manner. “The Winchester brothers are known to those who preside over the fairy realm. It is my privilege to aid the ones who have saved the mortal world from destruction.”

   He looked at Sam and didn’t care if he experienced Hell for the rest of eternity. As long as Sam didn’t have to.

   “What do I have to do?”

   “Kneel beside your brother.” Dean did and she took and sliced his palm with the golden blade. She laid one of the talismans in his palm closing his fist over it, then did the same to Sam. The chain from Dean’s medallion was wound around Sam’s wrist and Sam’s was wound over Dean’s.

   Rhiannon laid her hands on their brows and Dean could feel heat seeping into his veins. Then she spoke, the words echoing throughout the bunker.

  “Fola a fola bhfuil tu faoi cheangal,  
Cohmlacht a cohmlacht,  
Mind do mind,  
Spiorad go Spiorad,  
Croi one  
Soul amhain  
Everlasting.”*

     Dean felt a jolt of energy travel through his entire body and then it was over. She handed Dean the medallion that had been in Sam’s bloody palm and then looped the one from Dean around Sam’s neck. Dean was astounded to see the cuts on both his and Sam’s palms had healed. There was no blood. It was as if the medallion had absorbed it all.

   “Wear these as a symbol, but realize that the power lies in the both of you. Your willingness to sacrifice for each other and your love will defeat the darkness that lies within you both. Never forget that your greatest weakness is also your greatest strength.”

   The talisman felt right lying against his chest. This one he would make sure he never let go of.

  “When will he wake up? How will I know this worked?” Sam hadn’t moved once, not even when she had sliced his palm. He slept on, deep in the nightmares of his mind’s eye.

   “It should not be long and you will know.” She leaned over and kissed Sam’s cheek, then turned to Dean and did the same.

   “Thank you”, Dean breathed.

   “I think there will be many songs written for the Winchester brothers.” She smiled. “I think maybe there already are.  Dea-fhortun*, Dean Winchester.” And then she was gone.

   Dean felt exhilarated and drained at the same time. Maybe he had dreamed it. The damned queen of the fairies had come looking to help them. When had anything but trouble ever sought them out?

   He needed to clean Sam up and change the bed but all of a sudden he felt as if he was moving in a fog. He’d just lay down for a minute.

    Grabbing a clean blanket, he tugged and pulled at his brother, slipping the blanket underneath him, until he covered the entire bed. Laying down next to Sam, he threw his arm over his chest and fell instantly into a deep sleep.

 

    When Dean woke, he looked at the clock and realized he’d only been asleep about an hour. He wasn’t sure what had woke him. Then he looked at Sam.

    Sam was staring back at him, one hand under his cheek, awake and aware.

   And he wasn’t screaming so that was a good thing, huh?

  “Sammy?” Dean reached out and cupped Sam’s face in his palm. “Are you okay?”

   “I don’t know.” It came out strained. He was hoarse from the yelling he had done over the past few days. “I mean, the memories are there but it‘s like I‘ve got them locked behind a door. Or I‘ve constructed my own wall.”

    Sam fingered the talisman around his neck. “What is this, Dean?”

   “I tell you what, Sam, let’s get cleaned up. And you need to eat. Something light to start with.” He stopped at Sam’s smile. Dean couldn’t help but answer with one of his own. “Well, you’ve been out for almost a week, Sammy, so I can still worry. Then, I promise, I’ll tell you everything.”

   Sam was too tired and too weak to do anything but agree. Dean had to support him all the way to the bathroom and he ended up sitting in the shower while Dean washed his hair. It felt so good, so warm, with Dean’s fingers massaging his scalp that he almost fell asleep again right there.

   “Come on, Sasquatch, help me out a little. Don’t go back to sleep just yet.” Sam just murmured his assent and Dean smiled. “Feels good, huh?”

   “Don’t want to sleep anymore, Dean. Don’t want to leave you again.” Sam wanted to open his eyes, but it seemed like too much effort.

    “You’re not going anywhere, Sammy”, Dean said firmly. “Now come on and let’s go get some food in you.”

   It was like pushing a giant toddler around and Dean didn’t mind a bit. Sam was awake and talking and he didn’t care what he had to do right now as long as Sam stayed lucid.

   And, so far, no flashbacks of Hell for either of them. Of course, Dean had his own memories of the pit which was enough nightmare fodder, thank you very much.

    Dean made a fresh pot of coffee and chicken noodle soup. The first spoonful ended up in Sam’s lap because his hand was shaking so badly. Dean took the utensil from his brother and scooped up a spoonful of broth.

   “I can do it, Dean”, Sam protested. Dean had been taking care of him off and on for weeks now. He didn’t even want to think about it. He could damn well feed himself a bowl of soup.

   “Look, Sam, you don’t have to be embarrassed. Everything I did, you would have done the same. Now shut up and let me get some of this in you.”

   Dean felt like he had accomplished something when Sam ate half the bowl before pushing it away. Sam had a little more color in his cheeks now and looked a little more awake.

   “So, tell me what happened, Dean. I’m assuming it has something to do with our matching jewelry.” Sam waited expectantly fingering his pendant without seeming to realize what he was doing. It seemed to calm him and make him feel a little more clear-headed.

    Dean took a deep breath and recapped the last few days, not leaving out any details. Sam didn’t interrupt him once and when Dean was finished, he sat silently, staring into the distance.

    Clearing his throat, Dean quipped, “Questions from the peanut gallery?”

    Sam turned his gaze back to his brother and Dean could see that he was angry. Nope, that was Sam’s “what the fuck have you gone and done now” look.

    “So let me get this straight”, Sam’s hand tightened around the necklace, “you and some fairy queen thought it was a good idea for you take on my memories of the cage? Like you don’t have enough crappiness rolling around in your head, including your own stay in Hell.”

    “No! It’s not like that. I can’t go all dead zone on you. But, from what I understood, I’ll be sort of like a crutch you can lean on until you can walk on your own.” Sam was shaking his head and Dean knelt in front of him, cupping Sam‘s cheek with his palm.

    “Sammy, I tried to do what you asked and I‘m a damn coward. I couldn’t. If she hadn’t shown up, I would’ve found something.” Dean tucked a stray lock of hair behind Sam’s ear. “Remember when I said you were my weak spot? You still are, Sammy, but you’re also what gives me the strength to go on. I don’t want to do any of it without you. So, let me help you through this, okay? We‘ll come out on the other side stronger for it, I promise.”

    “I need you to live, Sam, so I can show you just how much I love you.”

    Sam leaned forward so that their foreheads touched. “You won’t ever give up on me will you, Dean?”

   “Nope. Not ever, little brother. You deserve some happiness, Sam. We both do.”

   “I can get on board with that idea”, Sam laughed softly. “Do you think we can make it work?”

   “Well, our fairy godmother seems to think we’ve got something pretty special.” Dean stood and extended his hand to help Sam up.

    “So, what do you say Sleeping Beauty? Ready for a nap?”

    “That’s Cinderella, Dean.” Sam’s bitchface was brief but it was there, Dean was ecstatic to note.

    “What?”

     “Cinderella had a fairy godmother not Sleeping Beauty.” Sam was trying not to smile and failing miserably.

    “Whatever, Rapunzel. Just remember, I’m totally the Prince.” Dean had his arm around Sam’s shoulder as they made their way down the hall.

    “So you’re my Prince Charming, Dean?”

   Dean stopped and pulled Sam into a brief embrace before kissing him gently. “You gotta admit, Sammy, I am pretty damn charming.”

    “Yeah, you are. A little too charming for your own good.”

   One more brief kiss before they continued down the hall. “What can I say, Sam. You’re a lucky guy.”

   Sam snorted, chuckling, and Dean’s smile never left his face.

   It was still there when he fell asleep.

 

    Over the next few days, they did nothing but eat, watch movies and sleep. Sam had no nightmares or flashbacks and seemed reticent to talk about what he remembered and Dean didn’t ask. He knew that when Sam was ready, he would let Dean know.

   There were times that Sam would get a faraway look in his eyes and begin to shiver and Dean would pile on extra blankets and wrap him in his arms until the trembling stopped.

    On the morning of the third day, Dean could tell Sam felt out of sorts. He pushed away his breakfast after only a few bites and when Dean asked if he was okay, he wouldn’t look at Dean.. Just nodded and said he was tired.

    Dean’s Sammy sense ramped up right past mild alarm and into full-blown panic mode.

   He finished eating his own breakfast, watching as Sam sipped his coffee, silent and withdrawn. When he began clearing the table, Sam began to help, grabbing his mug and the coffee pot. Dean turned at the sound of glass breaking and saw Sam on his hands and knees gathering the shattered remains of the pot, whispering to himself.

   “I’m sorry…didn’t mean it…please…my fault, it’s my fault…..sorry…” He continued to repeat the same words and when Dean approached to help, Sam shrank in on himself.

    Sam was terrified.

     Dean knelt cautiously in front of his brother and reached out to touch his hand. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just a stupid coffee pot. Don’t worry.”

    Sam tried to snatch his hand away but Dean held it firmly, and then it hit him.

   So many emotions that he couldn’t process them individually. Terror so sharp it took his breath away. Abject despair so intense that it was a physical sensation. Self-loathing so extreme that it almost overwhelmed Dean’s own sense of self.

     _I deserve this, everything, all of it, I’m not good, I never was, so many people hurt because of me, Dean, he doesn’t need me, never needed me, yes I know, I know he’s so happy now, doesn’t have to worry about his pathetic fuck-up of a little brother, Dean, Dean, Dean…_..

  Dean let go of Sam’s hand and fell back, gasping. “What the hell?” He looked around the kitchen in a daze and then realized Sam was gone.

    He shook his head to clear it. Is this what his little brother had bottled up inside of him? It was amazing that he wasn’t catatonic or insane.

   He found Sam wedged in a corner of the little room off the library that housed the telescope. Sam was hugging his arms around himself in an effort to stop his trembling.

   Dean approached him cautiously. He didn’t know what frame of mind Sam was in and didn’t want to scare him anymore than he already was.

   “Hey, Sammy. I’m here, okay. I’m just going to sit right here and we’ll talk.” Dean sat on the floor right outside the alcove.

   Sam looked up, his face a mask of calm and that frightened Dean more than if he was hysterical. His face held the look of someone to whom hope was a foreign concept.

   “I deserved, it. All of it. He used to tell me that all of the time. Especially, at first. He was so angry. They both were. But Lucifer…”, his voice trailed off and he shuddered violently. “He said he would have given me anything, but just like everything I’d ever done, I messed that up too. And he was right. Everyone would have better off if I had never been born. Mom would be alive, you wouldn’t have had to take care of me all of your life, Jess would be alive.” Sam swallowed heavily. “I should have never got out. I should be there with him. If I was still there, the world would be safe. You would be safe, Dean.”

   “God, Sammy, you can‘t believe that. You didn‘t deserve any of what happened to you. None of it. We‘ve all made mistakes.”  

   Sam laughed shortly. “Mistakes? You once told me they were choices. And you were right.”

   “No, Sam, I wasn’t. I broke the first seal, so blame me. Or the angels, who stood by and let sixty-four other seals get broken. If you’re going to blame anyone, blame God. He’s the one with the master plan that set you and me up as dupes before the world even began.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “But don’t blame yourself, Sam. You saved the world by sacrificing yourself. You are the bravest and strongest person I know.”

  “Strong?” Sam shook his head sharply. “You have no idea, Dean. You don’t know what I did in the pit. You’d never want to touch me again if you knew.’

   “There’s nothing you have done or will do, that will ever change the way I feel about you. I tortured innocent people, Sam. Do you still want me?” Dean challenged.

  “You don’t know what it’s like, Dean.” Sam’s voice was so soft. Dean leaned forward to hear him better. “You don’t know what it’s like to go for years, decades, without some type of contact with….well, with anyone. I’m talking physical contact. The only thing I felt was metal and leather, fire and ice. I don’t even know how long it was. He said I’d have to beg him.” Sam closed his eyes and a single tear was all he could manage. He felt like he was a shell of a man. How could Dean ever look at him the same?

   “I did, Dean. I begged and that was when I knew I had accepted the fact that I would never be topside again, that I would never see you again. That I didn’t deserve to see you again.” He opened his eyes and looked at Dean’s stunned expression. “He did things to me that I begged for because I just wanted to be touched, to feel flesh on flesh, or whatever passed for it in the pit. Things that I can‘t even think about, that are so disgusting, so depraved that I have to lock them away so I won‘t just go ahead and blow my brains out.”

    “So, tell me again, Dean, how much you love me and how much you want me.” Sam’s bitter tone cut through Dean’s shock at what his brother was telling him.

   “Sam, I can’t imagine what you went through. The little glimpse I just got from you was enough. You didn’t do these things, Sam, they were done  _to_  you and I won’t let you keep blaming yourself, or thinking you deserved any of it. Not you, Sammy.” He took Sam’s hand carefully but received no more glimpses into Sam’s psyche, for which he was grateful.

    “Do you really think that I would look at you any differently because of what happened in the pit? Wow, you really don’t think much of your big brother, do you?”

   “Dean, that’s not what I meant”, Sam protested.

   “I know it wasn’t but if I let what happened in Hell keep me away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me, then I would be a fucking asshole.” He paused, considering. “Okay, a bigger asshole than I actually am.”

   Sam smiled weakly at Dean’s joke.

   “I want to help you get better, Sam. I want you to have all of the things that you deserve. We can even stop hunting if that’s what you want. Turn respectable.”

   “No. Hunting is what we do. I want to keep helping people, Dean. I need that.” Sam looked down then back at his brother and Dean could see the determination in his eyes. “I promised Kevin I would put a blade in Gadreel. I owe Kevin that.”

   “Okay”, Dean nodded, “I get it. But first, we’re going to take some downtime, however much we need, and make sure we’re ready before we get back out there.”

   “You mean make sure I’m ready”, Sam corrected.

   “No, I mean both of us. Plus, we deserve some time off. Okay?”

    Dean stood and helped Sam to his feet. “You lock those things behind an iron-clad door, Sammy, and you throw away the key.”

    Sam’s gaze was fixed firmly on the floor but he nodded. “I hope it’s going to be that easy.”

   “It won’t, but I’ll be here to help you, Sam. Let me help you.” He put a finger under Sam’s chin and raised it so he could look into his eyes. “And don’t ever think you can’t talk to me about something, because you can. Anything. Got it?”

    “You know that goes both ways, right? We need to talk about that  mark on your arm, Dean.”

  “We will, but one major battle at a time, huh?” Dean smiled. “So what do you want to do today?”

   Sam shrugged his shoulders, looking down at their joined hands. When he looked back up at Dean, he could see it in Sam’s face. What his little brother needed right now.

   Sam pulled Dean into his arms and lowered his mouth to his brother’s. There was nothing tentative or unsure in Sam’s kiss. He ravaged Dean’s mouth,  tasting and teasing, nipping at Dean’s bottom lip until Dean’s head was spinning. He buried his hands in Sam’s hair, anchoring himself as Sam continued to kiss him with a desperate need.

   “Dean, need you to touch me. Want you …please”, Sam was tugging him toward his bedroom and he went along willingly. They left a trail of discarded clothing in their wake and they were naked by the time they made it to a bed .

   “Touch me, Dean.“ Sam’s kisses had turned rougher, demanding. Dean’s hands ran over the muscles in Sam’s arms, his chest, teasing the hard nipples. Dean tore his mouth from Sam’s so he could flick his tongue against the sensitive peaks as Sam arched and moaned his name. Dean’s finger trailed across Sam’s hard stomach, tracing the thin line of hair that led to the coarse brown curls between Sam’s thighs.  His lips traced the long line of Sam’s neck as his hands cupped Sam’s balls, rolling and kneading one then the other.

    “Dean….god, I need you…..”

   “ ’s okay, Sammy. I’m gonna take care of you.”  Dean reached between their bodies and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks, jerking them off together, slowly. Their mouths found each other again and these kisses were deep, sensuous explorations as if this was the first time they had tasted one another. Dean’s hand continued to work between them while Sam’s hands roamed over Dean’s body, settling on his hips where Dean would have bruises to show where Sam’s fingers had gripped him tightly and held on.

   Sam felt his orgasm begin to build and, finally it broke, rolling through his body, wave after wave of intense pleasure. Then, Dean was coming with him and Sam felt another orgasm hit out of nowhere, sharp bursts of pleasure causing him to cry out his brother’s name again and again.

    Dean continued to stroke them through the aftershocks, murmuring against Sam’s lips, “Love you, Sammy. I love you so much.”

    Stripping a pillow from it‘s case, Dean cleaned them up as best as he could before tossing it on the floor.

   “Sammy? You okay?” Sam was curled around him, legs entwined with his and Dean felt a sense of complete contentment.

   “Yeah”, Sam whispered softly. Then he laughed, placing a kiss in the hollow of Dean’s throat. “How could I not be after that? That was incredible.”

   “Ah, Sammy, that’s what they all say. Ow!” Dean exclaimed as Sam punched his bicep playfully. “Nah, it was. Sex with you is perfect, Sam, more than perfect. You know I don’t want anyone else, right? Only you.”

   “Really?” Sam sounded so young and vulnerable. Dean knew that a lot of Sam’s insecurities stemmed from him and he was going to dedicate himself to making sure Sam knew just how much he meant to Dean.

  “Yeah, really. I love you, Sam. Completely and forever. That will never change, little brother.” He dropped a kiss to the top of Sam’s head. “Just remember that when things start to get bad, okay?”

   Sam nodded and his hair tickled Dean’s nose. “I love you too, Dean.”

   They lay together, each lost in thought, but knowing one thing for sure.

   No matter how crazy and fucked up their lives might be, they had each other.

   And, as the song says, sometimes, love is all you need.

                                 

 

 

 The End

 

*Blood to blood you are bound

Body to body

Mind to mind

Spirit to spirit

One heart

One soul

Everlasting

 

*Good fortune

 

 


	5. Epilogue

 

 

 

 

 

 _Loving can hurt_  
_Loving can hurt sometimes_  
_But it’s the only thing I know_  
_When it gets hard_  
_You know it can get hard sometimes_  
_It is the only thing that makes us feel alive_

 _Loving can heal_  
_Loving can mend your soul_  
_And it’s the only thing I know_  
_I swear it will get easier_

 _So you can keep me_  
_Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans_  
_Holdin’ me closer_  
_‘Til out eyes meet_  
_You won’t ever be alone_  
_Wait for me to come home”_

                                             “Photograph” by Ed Sheeran

 

         One week had passed since fairy magic had  bound Sam and Dean even closer than they had been before.  Sam slept and ate, washed and slept again, all with Dean by his side. His strength returned quickly, perhaps due to that same magic.

    Mostly, Sam thought it was due to his brother’s love and attention.

   It was like their relationship had blossomed into what they had always known it could be but were afraid to explore. There were no more barriers, no more secrets. They would talk about the ones that were hidden in shadows, locked away, but they would be the last between them.

   When the nightmares came, whether Sam was sleeping or awake, Dean was right there. The mere touch of Dean’s hand was enough to anchor him in the now. The past had no power against the enormity of his brother’s devotion. Sam drew strength from Dean’s love, now given freely and openly. For his part, Dean was now able to accept what Sam had always offered, love without any reservations, and to realize that he was worthy in Sam’s eyes and that was all that really mattered.

   They found that their bolstered connection had other effects as well.

  Their bond had always allowed them a certain intuitiveness about the other’s thoughts and actions. It was why they would speak the same thing at the same time and it was why they hunted so well together. They had the ability to communicate without words. It wasn’t until Sam decided that he was up for light sparring that they realized that ability had been dialed up a notch. Or a hundred.

   It had been a while since they had worked out together and Sam was still recovering so they took it slow, testing each other with light punches. It escalated rapidly and neither one of them could get the upper hand.

   They knew the other’s attack and counterattack and could react in response so that the session went on and on. Sam was perspiring heavily and Dean raised an eyebrow, “Wanna quit?”

   Sam shook his head. “No.”

   Curiosity pushed them to continue. They would never know how long the session would have gone on if Sam had not dropped to his knees, exhaustion overwhelming him.

   Dean was by his side in a minute, pushing back the sweaty strands that obscured Sam’s face. “Hey, you okay?”

  Two seconds later, Dean found himself on his back looking up at his brother who had a triumphant, albeit fatigued, smile on his face.

   “You didn’t see that one coming.” Sam rolled off of his brother until they were laying side by side staring at the ceiling.

   Taking a deep breath, Sam asked, “What the hell was that?”

   Dean turned his head to look at Sam, an impish grin lighting up his features. “Fun.”

   They also couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of one another. Sex between the two of them had always been good, really good, amazing even but now it often teetered over the edge into mind-blowing.

  There was no way to describe how it felt to be touched by the person to whom you were literally bound, heart and soul. To be connected so deeply, that when Dean took Sam’s hardness into his mouth or Sam entered Dean after spending an hour opening him up until he was begging for Sam to “do it, Sammy, god please, Sammy,  _please_ ….”, it felt like their flesh was fusing into one another, their hearts beating in unison, their minds repeating a litany of their brother’s name, their very cells seeming to resonate with the music of the spheres until they were one being, _one soul._

   There was so much waiting for them; Metatron, Gadreel, and all of the other fallen angels; Crowley; the mark on Dean’s arm. Dean insisted that they take a few more weeks to allow Sam more time to heal. Sam agreed, because he needed his brother to himself for just a little while longer.

    One night, after they had eaten dinner, Dean could tell Sam was on edge. Without saying a word, Dean grabbed a blanket, then Sam’s hand, and headed for the stairs.

   “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

   The night was mild and clear. Dean led Sam to the field behind the bunker and spread their blanket. A light breeze ruffled Sam’s hair and the half-moon gave enough light so that Dean could see Sam was smiling fondly at him.

    They lay on the blanket, their hands clasping one another’s and looked up at the night sky. A million pinpoints of light spread across the vastness and Sam sighed in contentment.

   “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Dean?”

   Dean looked at his little brother, who had been through so much, who was so strong. His brother who knew exactly what was in Hell and what was in Heaven and still could look at the stars with child-like wonder. His strong, amazing little brother who loved him completely.

  “It sure is, little brother. Just beautiful."

 


End file.
